A Little Piece of Heaven
by LeakySneakyOprichniki
Summary: "I've Missed you"
1. Before The Story Begins

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 1: Before the Story Begins

"Where are we going?"

"The more accurate question is to where _you_ are going. You owe me, my dear, but I have no use for you."

"Who am I going to?"

"To the worst the worlds' have to offer." Maleficent glided quickly down the hallways of Hallow Bastion Fortress, her debtor following quietly behind. Their heels tapped hollowly against the tiled and damp floors from behind.

The silent pair took a narrow hallway and up a flight of stairs to the inner living spaces of the crippled castle. After passing two more passages, Maleficent stopped at pair of wooden double doors. Drawing up her pale hand, she nervously knocked.

"Come in." A deep voice boomed from beyond the doors.

Pushing the large doors open, both Maleficent and her company walked in.

"Ansem…" Maleficent called. She shivered at the mention of his name.

"What is it?" He was scribbling down notes from a hefty book. He was probably engrossed in some new study. He would look back and forth from his writing and literature occasionally; scrawling down new information.

"I have someone here who owes me debt, but I have no use for her." She precariously eyed him, and resisted the urge to stutter. Talking to Ansem was hardly ever pleasant. One glance from him was as if sudden death.

"Hmmm…Is that so?" He murmured, distracted by his workings.

_Good_… Maleficent thought. Maybe he wouldn't look her in the eye. This could work to her advantage.

"Yes, I was hoping you could put her to work. I'm sure she'll make a fine assistant, servant, maid, slave, which ever." She gestured with her globed staff. Her nails clicked against it in a nervous staccato.

Ansem turned in his chair and glared daggers. Maleficent's mouth went dry.

"Fine." She let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding.

Ansem turned his gaze to the female in the room, and stood up from his chair. He let out an irritated sigh that vibrated low in his chest and bounced of the study's thin walls.

"Your name." He demanded.

"Phoebe." She answered plainly. She twirled a piece of her hair in-between her small fingers.

Ansem looked her up and down skeptically. She was short even in the high round-toe pumps that she wore. He easily towered over her by more than two heads. She had silky dark purple hair fashioned into a Strait-Chic that fell to the middle of her back, and framed her soft, heart-shaped face(witch was dotted with light moles). Brown, two toned eyes like chocolate and honey stared back before looking away. Her polished fingers toyed with the front strings of the black leather corset she wore over a tuxedo like blouse. The white shirt was cut in a way that resembled a tank-top. Large slits showed her milky brown shoulders, and left the cuffed sleeves to hang on her arms, while her black bow tied high collar held everything up, and left half of her back exposed.

Her pants where also black, and clung tight like a second skin over wide hips and thick thighs. Her short legs shifted in a fidgety matter under Ansem's analyzing stare. Her heels clacked against the floor causing the room to echo awkwardly.

Maleficent sneered at Phoebe, and dispersed in a cascade of green light. Good riddance. Now that they were acquainted she had no reason, or desire to be in Ansem's presence.

Phoebe's breath hitched in her throat. She hugged her arms tight to her curvy frame. So this was the worst the worlds' had to offer? They both stared at each other unmoving for several minutes.

"Um…Hi?" She chewed on the inside of her mouth, occasionally breaking their eye contact.

"I'll let you stay for now. You'll do all that I ask, whenever I ask of it." Ansem was the one to break the relative silence the room had fallen into.

"Within reason..." Phoebe flipped a strand of her hair back into her cut bangs.

"Yes,_ my_ reason. You will work for me until the debt you carry is paid off. Every morning you shall report here, and I will have an assignment. When you finish, hand me a report of what you have done and you are free to do as you please. I'm not in the torturing mood. Count yourself lucky, but I warn you. Don't bother my studies… "

"Just like that, huh? Sure." She nodded going back to twirling a clump of her violet hair.

"Humph…Follow me." He passed Phoebe and exited through the doors of his office.

Phoebe followed him with a sigh. Her eyes scanned him as he led the way. She was relieved to have him turned around. His face wasn't visible, but more importantly, neither were his eyes. They burned like cold fire, and scorched holes where they rested. But, they were very pretty in a sense; like liquid sun or molten magma.

His appearance awoke her inner muse.

Ansem stopped abruptly at the only door with a crystal knob. He opened it, and the door creaked with protest. Phoebe peered inside the small living chamber.

"You will stay here. If you need anything _hesitate_ to ask." And with that, he left.

"_Well then_…" Phoebe rolled her eyes. "I can tell I'm going to have lots of _fun_." She sat down the carrier bag she had been holding at the foot of her bed.

She looked around curiously. She peered over the furnishings that filled her new living space. With one finger she tapped her chin, and looked out a window parallel to a work table on the opposite wall from her. Night was quickly approaching. That's when all hell usually broke loose. More Heartless prowled at night, looking for unwary souls (or hearts) to feast on and nab at.

Phoebe shivered unsure of what was to become of her. She was staying servant to the King of Heartless himself. She was safe? But, not sound. Her situation made her paranoid. Ansem was known to be ruthless. She hmm'd thoughtfully in an attempt to calm herself. She sighed again. She'd just have to test the waters.

Ansem growled at his desk "Accepting anyone who asks." He shook his head. The presence of another in his castle was irritating, for he was used to being alone, and he liked it that way. How did he know if he could even trust this woman? Aggravated and exhausted he left his notes for his private chambers.

He had been working for four days straight, and even those such as him needed rest. With one hand running through his ghost white hair, and the other covering a yawn, he prepared to rest for the night. He'd stay alert though, his new company set him at unease.

Phoebe stared at the ceiling as she laid spread out on her new bed. No matter how much she attempted to still her worrying mind, she could not. She felt too uncertain staying with this man in a mysterious injured castle. Like a pinch to an arm, a thought came to her.

"Why don't I take a little tour?" she sat up on the sand colored bed sheets, and swung her legs to the edge. She couldn't get to sleep anyway. Hopefully, Ansem wouldn't mind an exhibition of the castle. Snooping was always fun. She grinned in the dark. Her bangs dangled from her forehead as she bent over to slip off her pumps. They would most defiantly make noise on the castles' floors. Moving swiftly she crouched out of her room shorter than when she came in, and barefoot.

Phoebe tiptoed down the dark halls. The moon acted as her only guide as it glimmered through cracks in windows and doors. If she was going to be a servant here, she might as well get familiar with the place, right? Soon she found herself in the lower parts of the fortress. It was fairly dark. She had to squint to see.

Little. Yellow. Dots. Of ._**Doom**_.

She frowned, hard. Her face scrunched up in a displeased manner. Heartless ground on her nerves, especially the shadow kind. They lurked and watched her from corners, nooks, and crannies. Their twitchy little black bodies shook and spasmed excitedly. Fresh meat was approaching. She could hear their high-pitched squeals and squawks. Phoebe mentally cursed them.

"Oh shut-up you evil little nasties…"

One scampered messily across the ground, and brushed against her leg. She resisted the burning urge to kick it. Even though they swarmed her like moths to light, they made no move to attack. She let go of one of the arms that tightly covered her waist, and let it fall stiffly to her side; ready to summon her weapon_, Motivation_, at any split second.

Still in the mode of caution, she looked about the cracked and chipping hallways memorizing doors, routes, and stairways. She felt another pang of paranoia. She growled and hissed at Heartless that got too close. Sweat lightly formed on her skin, and her bare feet felt numb against the concrete. She let her other hand rack through her strait hair, claiming her favorite strands and pulling at them.

The temperature dropped as she climbed down another flight of stairs. Her hands using the wall to now guide her. It had become pitch black. She groaned. Now she'd gone and done something completely retarded.

Heartless no light what-so-ever can't see no sense of direction Die.

"Uhhh, I'm a horrible ninja." She groaned.

She was disappointed to end her 'tour' with a pitch black dead end. She backed away subtly from the wall wary now of her surroundings. Phoebe swiftly turned on her bare heel only to collide with what felt like a brick wall.

In a daze, she gasped and found darkness at first. She looked directly upwards to meet the bright glowing amber eyes of her 'brick wall'.

"S-see what happened was..." She immediately began stuttering.

"What are you doing?" Ansem asked monotonously in a voice alike warm water pouring on skin.

"Trying to be stealthy…I know I failed." Her full lips pressed into a tight line, and her eyebrows furrowed.

"Go back to your room." He raised an eyebrow at her response, "wouldn't want the heartless down here to deny my orders and snatch your heart anyway." He summoned a dark corridor, though it was unseen by Phoebe. Unlike him, she could not see perfectly in the dark (of course this was already obvious).

Phoebe's physical heart thumped wildly in her rib cage. He had scared her with his enigmatic appearance out of no where. She almost jumped a mile high when she felt one of his large hands latch onto her back, and push her roughly. Before she knew it, she landed face first into the sheets of her bed. Her thick hair fanned out messily above her head.

Her breathing was rapid, and she could feel her pulse rattle in her ears. "Well, that wasn't scary at all." She pushed herself up to her knees. "Let's not do that again…"

**Authors Notes (5-7-11):**

**The first couple of chapters ( About 1 to 2) aren't the best, but I'm sure it gets good around chapter 3. I'm just too lazy to fix these. **


	2. Take What's Mine

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 2: Take What's Mine

Phoebe rose groggily. She found herself in an uncomfortable position. Light drool glistened on her cheeks. Her arm was trapped under her oddly twisted back and bent knees. She groaned a sigh and un-knotted herself. Light pops and cracks came from her stiff joints. How does somebody get in that position when their sleeping? Weird, she thought.

She sat up on her bed, wiped the saliva from her face, and turned to look through the window. Light rays of morning light trickled across the tan room and shimmered on her face. She winced and closed her eye lids. She could see and feel the light from under her long lashes. She opened them grudgingly and yawned.

Lord knows she didn't want to, but she_ had_ to.

"I guess it's time to work."

Ansem's office was empty to Phoebe's surprise. She guessed he wasn't an early person. She leaned herself against the wall and door frame. The metallic material of the walls felt cool against her small back. She removed herself briefly to look both ways, and then returned to her post. She closed her eyes for the second time since she'd been up. Her little tour last night had left her with less sleep and a nightmare, or two. She was tired.

She dosed lightly. Her head turned, and her cheek pressed against the wall around one of the office doors. Phoebe stayed this way for several minuets, and almost forgot where she was. A brisk movement of air swept past her. She opened her eyes and jumped. Ansem was halfway through the French doors of his study.

He passed wordlessly as he glided across the carpeted floor in strides. His archaic book was re-opened and flipped through. The pages wrestled and crumpled under his searching fingers. Ansem closed it with a smack, and moved onto another old book. Fresh dust flew as he swung its cover open. He turned the pages and scanned its folds for the object of his search. He paused and removed a picture that was wedged into a thin dog eared sheet.

"I need you to retrieve this for me." He stuck the Polaroid out for Phoebe to reference. He never took his eyes away from his work table.

Phoebe eyed the image with curiosity, and took it from his large hand. The photograph was crumpled at its edges, and worn thinly away by time. She studied it closely. A miss-shaped vase? It reminded her of abstract or modern art. Why would Ansem want this?

She squinted. The image's wrinkles made the vase hard to see. The container printed on the paper appeared to be black, with pink and purple inscriptions zigzagging across its square surfaces. The spout was crooked, and so were its triangular handles. It was tightly closed by a green cork. She looked at Ansem and opened her mouth to ask him a question.

"What is—"she began, but was cut off.

"It's called the January Jumble Jardinière. Bring it back in one piece." Ansem was now seated in his chair. He had already begun to resume his research.

"So…I'm supposed to steal this?" she questioned him. Skepticism laced her smooth voice. The picture flipped across her polished black finger nails.

"If you put it that way, yes."

"Where am I supposed to find this then?" She smacked her lips. Phoebe's attitude finally awoke from its slumber.

Ansem threw up his arm, and summoned a dark portal.

"Don't dawdle. I want you back here before evening." He remained aloof at his desk.

"I don't even know where I'm going. How am I supposed to steal this?" she waved the picture above her head. Her arms came down on her thighs with sharp smacks.

Ansem didn't respond.

"Why are you ignoring me? At least give me a little help." Her eye brows knitted together.

Ansem glared at Phoebe from the corner of a bright eye. "I told you your requirements. Now, leave you're wearing my patience. Let's hope your stealth will be better than last night's. "He spoke in an eerily calm.

Phoebe scowled. Oh, how she wished to shoot back, but she remained reticent. This was Ansem after all. It was better not to get on his bad side. She'd share her disparage with him later.

Phoebe huffed through her nose and stomped into the awaiting portal. Her hips swung as she walked.

Ansem assuaged his temples. As annoying as it was, at least he had someone to do his dirty work. That vase was important to his motives. The jar contained a clue to the darkness that occupied his obsession. This clue was greatly needed to further his search for answers.

He straightened his back and leered at nothing in particular. Phoebe's sudden attitude aroused his thoughts. Where was that pleasing fear he saw yesterday. It was as if it evaporated over night. Interesting… He wondered why the change. Maybe there were other upsides to keeping this woman. He'd look into that later.

A crooked checkered hall extended out before Phoebe. This wasn't what she had been expecting. It felt like she had been thrown into a three year old's story book.

"What do we have here…" she mumbled biting on the tip of her smallest finger.

"Now what?" She looked about in uncertainty. Her portal remained behind her. "I guess it'll be here when I come back." She started down the mix matched halls until she came to a door. It was small, almost her height, and perfect for her size. It was much too tiny for anyone else. She fit through it with ease.

Waiting for her on the other side was a square room filled with a mid-size glass table, two chairs, and a fire place. On the opposite side was a sleeping door. It snored loudly. She squinted at it for a few moments. Familiarity stung at the back of her mind. Had she been here before?

She tempted toward the tiny door and crouched down to view it. Phoebe tapped it in its center lightly. The knob twitched and wiggled as it awoke. It yawned.

"May I help you ugh, madam?" Its eyes fluttered open as it drawled on.

"Sorry to wake you. Where am I?" she cocked her head to the side half way into her question.

"Why you're in Wonderland young lady." He yawned a second time, smacking his lips.

"Hmmm…Rings a bell. Thank you." She nodded and stood up from her knees.

"O-of course. Of course…" The door's snoring continued, fast asleep.

She turned her head and noted a second opening not too far of from the lazy door. It must lead to outside. The only problem was that like the door in front of her, it was way too small for even her to fit through. She thought the first door she passed through was unusually tiny.

"How am I supposed to get through there?" Phoebe searched the brightly colored room.

"Ahhh…I see." She flipped her hair back into place on her half exposed back.

The glass table she had passed up held her answer. On its top were two red and green jars with oh-so descriptive labels.

_Drink Me_

"Ugh, which one?" Phoebe picked them both up and shook them around. A liquid sloshed about from the insides. She assessed them carefully, and switched them around in her hands. She set the red one down, and stared attentively at the green. A sense of deja vu rippled through her again.

"I think I drink this one…" She screwed off the top and sniffed the rim. The clear liquid was scentless and crisp as it wafted her nose. She drew in a breath and raised it to her mouth bravely. She took a small swing, and immediately slammed it back down on the table. She gagged. The mixture was difficult to swallow. Her reflexes fought against her and she choked. The liquid stung, and was bitter. It left a pungent after taste; like stale cider and powder antibiotic pills.

"Okay, that was nasty…" Her face screwed up in disgust.

She collected herself as she coughed and sputtered. The world around her blurred and vibrant colors blended together. Phoebe waddled and held a hand to her spinning head. She shut her eyes to help ease the sudden crash of nausea. She then opened them and was confused. Phoebe was vertically challenged, but not by this much. Or, at least she thought she wasn't. She gasped. Realization dawned that she was shrinking.

Black little spots appeared and disappeared in the corners of her eyes, and shrouded her vision. She hugged her arms close to her chest, pressed her legs firm together, and watched as the area around her increased in size perception. She was down right tiny; probably no bigger than the pegs that supported the table that now loomed above her. She looked over herself. During her panic, her clothes where replaced with a costume of fantasy.

"Cute…" She smiled at her Wonderland ensemble. Resting on her head was a High-top hat with a purple and green checkered band running flush around its rim. Multiple peacock feathers sprang and fluttered from under the band; sporting bright clingy glitter as they rustled. Phoebe tilted her customary hat on her bangs before moving to pull down the cuffed sleeves of her black curve-tight ring master coat. The pockets of her coat were a pinkish burgundy like her shredded bowtie and cuffs. She wore no pants or anything to cover her legs. There was only black underwear with large polka-dots that faded from hot pink, to topaz blue, to lime green, to dandelion yellow. Phoebe also found herself barefoot. She wiggled her toes above the checkered board floor. She looked at her net-fish gloved hands that jingled with silver chains.

"This'll do. Now for that door." Phoebe nodded her head with acceptance.

On the other side was a court yard filled with lush rose and berry bushes. Walking cards scurried and marched green plant made pathways. There squinty eyes scanned all areas within their range. Phoebe cautioned herself and hid amongst the shadows. She avoided the guards as she scouted out her new area.

"Hmmm, it's a puzzle, and a garden." Phoebe gazed with admiration. It really was beautiful, to her anyway. She'd have to come back in her pass time and get to know the place better. It was quirky and unusual. She liked that. Now, where was that jar?

"Where am I supposed to find a jar in here? It's damn maze! Ugh, Ansem better not mess with me later. This is ridiculous.s" She sighed and lurked about checking every corner.

"How do I know it's even in here? Let's hope I get lucky…"

"Yes, let's hope!" A foreign voice joined in on her self conversation.

She swiveled around in a panic. A plump, purple striped cat smiled at her. His fat paws were crossed neatly under his wide uncanny grin. The cat's thick tail swished back and forth as he watched her from atop a high hedge.

"Oh," she sighed in relief. "A cat"

"_Cheshire,_ to be exact, my dear." He corrected, switching paws under his chin.

"Well then Cheshire Cat, do you know where I could find the January Jumble Jardinière? I'm a bit lost." Phoebe put her hands on her hips. The chains on her gloves jingled as she moved them.

"Why, you don't look lost to me! You look like you don't know your way." The cat chuckled.

"Really, now?" Phoebe found that she understood, more or less…

"As for the January Jumble Jardinière, it's in January. Common nonsense love." Half of his body dissolved into the air and left the first half to float from one bush to the next.

"Not the month I presume? It's in the middle of May. " She tapped her bare foot against the grass under her. "I'm sorry, but I don't have all day. Can you please tell me where I can find the vase?" She huffed.

"Well, since you're so polite…" He snickered in delight. "I'll give you another hint."

"Please, go on." She listened quietly.

"Follow the sapphire." And with that he disappeared.

"What's that supposed to mean!" She through her arms up. She was clearly frustrated.

The Cheshire's voice echoed from an undetermined place. "Oh, and a piece of advice, my dear. Be wary of strangers. Ta-Ta!" And his voice was gone.

"Sapphire, sapphire, sapphire. Wait, a Sapphire Elegy? That's a heartless. Do I have to follow a Heartless?" she trudged back and forth, checking the corner now and again for card guards.

As if on queue, heartless appeared.

**Author's Notes (5- 7- 11):**

**Haha, I really should re-do this chapter, but I'm far too lazy. Oh well. Pressing on! **


	3. Eat It, Eat It, Eat It!

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 3: Eat it, Eat it, Eat it!

Phoebe trudged her way back through the mixed-matched halls. Her legs ached with every step she took. After nearly three hours of snooping, fighting, and running for her life, she was exhausted.

She had followed the Sapphire Elegy as the Cheshire Cat advised. She wasn't expecting to follow the evil little thing into immediate trouble, a legion of heartless, guards, an angry Queen of Hearts, and in the end, a jabberwocky labyrinth. She had called out the crack of her whip so many times, her own ears where ringing.

"Oh, my back," Phoebe rubbed the lower half of her back lightly as she tried to sooth the kinks. With the other hand she held the January Jardinière, and clutched it close to her chest. She fought too hard to steal it, maybe harder than she should have. Then again she wanted to stay in Ansem's good graces.

She wearily peered down the end of the hall way. Her exit wasn't too far from site. She checked behind her swiftly to see if she was still being pursued. When she saw no one, she quickened her pace towards the dark portal and swiftly plunged herself in its dark veil. The dark tresses rapidly faded to expose Ansem's study. She walked languidly to his desk side, and sat the jumbled jardinière near his twitching fore arm.

"I'll have the report later this evening…" She murmured.

"Hmmm…" Ansem reflexively slid the Jar from his desk, placed it on a shelf, and went back to his workings without emitting a reply.

Phoebe exhaled noisily and departed through the office's large double doors. She pressed on down another hallway. She groaned in fatigue. As soon as she was done with her freakin' report she'd have a shower. Then, it was _directly_ to bed. She didn't care if it was only two in the after noon. She was damn tired. She just hoped that after her task was fully done Ansem wouldn't ask her to do anything more.

"He's probably going to run me into the ground just because…," She already had it in her mind that he was evil.

Ansem smirked quietly to himself. His work chair creaked under his weight. He had gotten what he wanted with little to no trouble at all. He had expected Phoebe to die, but it seemed that she was formidable against worldly beasts. She'd proven herself to not be a dead weight after all. For now he'd let her live. If she hadn't brought back what he asked, he would have killed her anyway.

He removed the heavy jar from an item shelf slowly and held it up in his hands. Eager of its contents, Ansem popped the bright green cork from the top of his prize. The foul odor of an ancient dusk wafted his nose, but he didn't flinch. He peered smugly at the thick black concoction inside, and obtained an open scroll from atop his wood desk.

The old English styled image on the scroll depicted a "plague" upon the feeble hearts of a fantasy world. In another picture, "knights" extracted the darkness from the tainted hearts, and sealed the malevolence in a jar. It was then guarded by a beast. Well, until now.

"The story is nothing special, but how one can take such a marvelous force and condense it into a mere jug... The mysteries darkness holds," Ansem mused. "The quantity in this jar opened such destructive desires…"

"I wonder if it's still potent on the heart." His eyes wide with wonder, he searched through a screechy bottom desk drawer for a test tube. "Ahh…" He found the right size, and poured a measurement of the jar in it. The liquid swirled in a murky spiritual essence as he squeezed on a cap. Yes, he'd have a little experimentation.

Ansem held it up and tipped it slightly. "Good thing I won't have to go looking for a test subject." He chuckled dryly to himself.

"Done!" Phoebe dotted the last period to her last sentence. She shuffled the six sheets of her report neatly and stuck the pen she had used behind her ear. Her desk wobbled lightly with her rushed movements. She backed out of her chair and pushed it in after adding a paper clip to keep her documents together. The clock she had recently added read 6:57pm.

"That took long enough. God, four and a half hours." She heaved herself out of her room, and tempted back down to Ansem's study. She wasn't surprised to find that he was still there. "He has no life…" Phoebe thought in her mind.

"Um, I have your report."

"Good…" He stood up on his feet, and slipped something unidentifiable in his coat pocket. He extended his large hand toward her and she placed her papers in it. With his other hand Ansem handed her a bottle of water from his desk.

"Don't waste that." He glanced at her neat hand writing swiftly, and turned to leave to the direction of his bedroom.

"Whatever you say," Phoebe mumbled under her breath. The bottle's top screwed of easily. Her thirst got the better of her and she swigged the water down. She hadn't eaten all day now that she thought of it. She'd have something after she had her shower.

Phoebe yawned while she revolved the shower knob. After she was satisfied with the temperature she had chosen, she began to remove her clothes. She threw her corset, tuxedo shirt, pants, and under garments to her carrier bag on the bathroom counter.

Her body felt heavy under the hot cover of water. Phoebe had to use a shower holster to support her. The sudden rush of what felt like fatigue was over whelming as she soaked under the spray. Her eye lids heavy, she eventually cut her shower short. The crystal bath knob squeaked shut under a sluggish hand.

Phoebe flipped the locks of her damp hair out of her eyes. When she'd wobbled out of the stall, she wiped herself dry with a clean towel. Her silk night gown and fresh underwear were obtained from her carrier bag and put on lethargically. She leaned over on the counter. Looking wearily at her purple hair, she puffed through her cheeks. Meh, it would just dry on its own.

The door exposed the cool air of her bed room when it was opened. It raised goose bumps on her milky brown skin and she shivered. Bobbing lightly, she slipped a honey bun out of her bag, and flung the carrier horribly at her desk.

"Ugh, I'm so _tired_…" Phoebe unwrapped her make shift meal slowly. The clear wrapper crinkled in her small hands. She took it in small bites but in the end just gulped the whole thing down. That would do for now.

She attempted to settle under the sheets of her bed, but she found she couldn't move. Phoebe didn't mind though, she wasn't going to budge any way. The night of her room blurred in her vision and immediately her mind went blank.

He lurked in the depth of darkness like the predator he was built to be. His smile, sharp, white, and unnerving. His eyes bright like hot coals in black ash. Phoebe could only watch as the beast dragged her drugged body into his arms, and took her away. She was awake, but _couldn't_ be alert, or move, or even utter a sound. She could barely _breathe_.

Phoebe limbs dangled over Ansem's fore arms as he carried all of her down to a basement lab. Both of their forms where completely hidden in the pitch black of Hollow Bastion's lower passages.

Abruptly, she was dumped down on a hard surface. Cold metal met her skin, and made her shiver violently. She fought to get up, but could only muster the coordination to move her short legs. A jolt of fear stabbed at her spine as she felt a hand grab her neck. She trembled in trepidation at what she couldn't see. She couldn't see _him_, or what he was planning to do.

The hand slinking its grip around her neck turned fierce. The force of Ansem's arm pushed her down into submission, and ended her final chance for escape. She was his now.

"That's a good girl." Ansem purred relishing in the sight of her quivering body stricken with horror.

He went in for the kill without a single thought. Piercing hands reached deep down into Phoebe's chest, and ripped open the curtains of her soul. Like the dawn, rose the bright light of a green heart. Her finger nails raked rabidly against the metal she laid on. A scream tore from her hoarse throat and settled into labored gasps.

"Such a unique color…" Ansem winced as the essence dimly alleviated the lab of darkness. His mouth began to water. Her heart, the smell was so enticing, so _sweet_. His muscles twitched with carnal desire.

Little yellow dots bounced of walls and corners. They were heartless eyes. He wasn't the only one who had been stirred by Phoebe's exposed heart. They swarmed around the lab table knocking over beakers and equipment with their twitchy bodies.

Ansem growled at some who lurked to close. He could faintly hear their droning chants.

"Eat it…," They repeated under the tone of their screeches. They surrounded the source of the green light, but stayed at a distance in fear of their master.

Ansem licked his lips, but ignored his hunger. He wanted nothing more that to eat her heart out, but the need for his experiment was greater. Before he got any more tempted, he took the test tube from his pocket. The cap was ripped off with his teeth and thrown in a random direction. The test tube was tilted over, spilling the inky black poison.

It burned. Oh, it burned her. Right at her very core.

**Author's Notes: **

**This took me quite a while to fully type out. Four days I think. I haven't touched this in a while, and I thought I'd get something out. It sucks to be busy.**

**R&R**


	4. Fifty Times

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 4: Fifty Times

I open my eyes, but I am not greeted by any light. I see nothing with my eyes open, nothing but black. I hear. I can feel-pain. Someone I can't see is watching me. I sense their thick presence. I am terrified, and I don't understand. I don't comprehend anything.

A sound. The staccato and deep thump of heavy steps in boots draws near. They have been watching at a distance. It must have been a long while. Maybe hours, seconds, minutes. They have done something to me, and they are _not_ done. In a hurry, as hurried as hurry can be, I crawl and scratch at the hard cold surface under me. I am blind; I could be crawling off a cliff.

I do fall, and crumble to a floor. I hit my cotton stuffed head on freezing tile. There are little squeals and shrieks. I can't see them, but I know immediately what the little things are. But those things aren't my main problem.

I whimper. I move too slow and sloppy. Panic. Panic. Breathe. Breathe Phoebe. You have to breathe.

This is-it must be a nightmare.

There is a low rumbling man- chuckle that vibrates off the walls and cracks my own rib cage. They come to hover over me. I can feel their eyes they are hot. Huge arms rake, then yank me up like a rag doll and throw me back onto whatever I was on before. My heart thumps, no, pounds so hard I think I'm going to die. A scream bubbles up to my throat but they pop it. They catch it on the brink of sound and squeeze it between every ring in my trachea. I gag.

My hands grab frantically at what has caught my throat. I find a base. It feels like a leg, but I know this is a wrist. I try with all my might to remove it so I can draw a breath, but it does not move the slightest bit. Struggling, I lift my legs and feel for something to push. I am going to die in my sleep.

I gasp. They grab both of my legs as soon as my feet make contact with their hard chest. They growl. I squirm more. I fight, and they do not like it.

Frustrated they effortlessly flip me on my stomach. One large hot hand is bearing down on my back, the other pins down my thighs. I am getting tired. There is no more energy to struggle.

The hand on my thighs leaves. They are pulling up my night ware. Their hand ghosts over parts of my skin. All of it comes off. They leave my underwear. Panic. _Panic_. I shriek. It gets caught in my stomach, but they hear it.

Short, stinging, stab. They have plucked a needle right into my left butt cheek. The injection starts to burn. Within minutes I can not move. At all. Again. Fabulous.

Satisfied, they fling me over on to my back again. I want to see so _badly_. My other senses are beginning to fail me. It's all so dark. It's too dark. I don't like nightmares.

They suddenly pry my eyes wide open. They start on my left. I feel no, see no light. My pupils are caved in. I am the patient, a victim up for dissection. I pray it's not time for the first incision. They hum low and baritone. Am I interesting? They force wide my right.

From my eyes the hands move.

Face. Neck. Shoulders. Sides. Hips. Legs. Joints.

Looking for something...

Their finger tips glide over the center of my chest. The smallest bit of contact hurts with an ache I've never felt before. It's as if I was stabbed in my heart fifty times and the knife was left wedged into my sternum. What is meant to be a scream comes out as nothing yet again. My heart is aching. Bleeding ink.

They stop their observations. There is no more touching. No doctor.

The next thing I feel is weightless.  
Arms cradle.

* * *

I catch myself in a snore just as I come into consciousness. Where the _hell_am I? I crack open one eye. I am greeted with a face full of pillow. The other eyelid flutters open. Rays of sun flood the carpet with a golden tint through my bedroom window.

Bed? Check.  
Table? Check.  
Carry bag? Check.  
Vision? Check.  
Other stuff? Check and double whatever.

I take a moment to unwind my self out of the same weird position I was in a night ago. This time, though, there is no slobber on the side of my face. I sit up and hold my arms close to my body.

Cautiously, I check myself over. There isn't a hair out of place. I find no bruises, or abrasions. I'm not in pain, and my night clothes are were they should be. Other than being slightly tired, I am perfectly fine. I touch my chest in the center right below my collar bones. Faint soreness, but I assume this was caused by my awkward sleeping position.

Yeah, I had a nightmare. I twitch.

I tilt my head. Bits and pieces of my hair fall over my shoulders. It is thirty five after six. I figure I am going to be late.

I settle with being lazy. The last three buttons of my tuxedo top go undone. I do not put on my shoes. I tuck them in my bag, and the bag gets tucked under the hook of my knuckles. It is one inch above being dragged on the floor. I throw in a pouch of munny and a few cures just in case. I flip all of my purple hair onto my back and wobble down the hall way. It's too early to attempt proper function.

I find the big bad wolf sitting in the same place doing the same thing. He is nibbling at the tip of a pen, and as expected, he does not greet me. He scribbles away at an already full paper. There is a book and a small computer, too. He's using all of them. Such is the life of a seeker, I note. He seems more like a researcher to me.

I wade a bit at the door way. The doorknob stabs me in my back as I hold one side open. He eventually looks up and over his shoulder. I catch a glimpse of orange at the corner of Ansem's eye.

"You're late," he states plain and simple. He moves a small stack of paper to other parts of his desk.

"I am?" I tilt my head and blink.

"You are," he completely turns around and faces me. He stares.  
His expression tells absolutely nothing about his mood. Big n' bad has a poker face.

"I apologize,"

"Your apology won't gain back wasted time," he stands up. Metal clips, and buttons clink. "Come," He commands, and I do.

I walk slowly. I'm not sure what he'll do with me today. There's no smile for torture. I can't sense impending doom. I stay skeptical.

"Then I suppose I'll just have make it up," I puff out my cheeks to distract myself. He makes me feel uneasy when he stares.

"Oh really, then I know you won't mind taking a trip to the basement levels," Ansem's mouth doesn't move into smirk, but I can tell he's sneering at me. His eyes squint, and I frown in defeat.

No! Punishment!

"I don't have a choice," I bite my lower lip.

"No, you don't," I know he's laughing at me on the inside. Dirty dog. "Fetch me the DTD archive folder won't you? I'm sure you know where to go," he walks past me and out the door.

I groan. Why the basement? Couldn't he have picked a heartless free zone? No, I missed the smile. He's going to torture me today. I missed the signs of doom. Down the hall I go.

When I arrive at the basement level, it is not as dark as I expect. I know it was darker than this. Wasn't it? I couldn't see worth crappy last time.

"It must be the daylight," I tell myself.

Archives. Archives. Archives. Where is the archive room again? Third door down the hall and to the left I remember. I keep going, and count my steps to keep myself from losing little ounces of my sanity. The heartless are scampering about. Their high pitched giggles and yacks call out in the dark. They don't seem to notice me. They keep doing what ever the hell they do. Weird.

Ah! Archives. I push the door open and walk through. Paint has started to chip off the metal, which is falling in broken pieces, and crumbling, on the walls. Dust covers almost everything. I sneeze and wrinkle my nose. A water pipe has broken making the room smell stale. I hate the smell of stale water in a carpet floor.

I get to work on the file cabinets. Everything is in alphabetical order. Thank god. Dust occupies my fingers as I flip through each one. I move to a different file cabinet labeled with a "D". This DTD file must be in here. I look, and then look again. I pass one that says "DILAN", then one with "DARKNESS," but no DTD. I check the other file containers. Nope, not in those. I look around. I'm tired of having to breathe through my mouth.

Wait? What do we have here? A little cabinet lays forgotten on its side under a stack of broken metal. I pull it out adding rust to the substances coating my hands. I try to pop it open. Darn, it's locked.

I lift up the heavy rusted pad lock from the hinge on the door. It's extremely damaged. I summon my whip and strike the lock right on its loop. It snaps.

I dig in. Let's see...

Hearts. Experiments. Hmm, Xehanort?

Here we are! DTD.

I snatch it out of its place and leave. I can breathe through my nose again! Back down the hall and out of the hell basement. I watch for heartless, but they don't attack. No longer am I new and fresh for the picking.

When I find Ansem again, he is in the library. He mumbles and flips through a black book then puts it back only to pick up a similar one. It's some kind of dark encyclopedia series. He holds out his hand in my direction. His sight is still on a book case. He picks out a volume. 13 is the number.

I walk over and hand the folder to him. He flips it back and forth. Probably to check if I got him what he asked for. Then, I am sent away to fetch him something new.

The torture continues through the whole day. I am sent to every area in the broken castle. Every area with high doses of darkness. I go here. Ansem sends me there. I almost get lost here. Something large and mean growls over there. Many, many heartless, but no attacks. They think I am one of them. How assuring. Ugh, my legs are starting to hurt.

When the day is over I retreat to the kitchen before my stomach turns inside out. The kitchen door is oddly thin. My wide hips get stuck in the frame, but only for a few seconds. I shuffle in and attack whatever is there. I contemplate asking Ansem if I could acquire some groceries. I want to cook, and I bet we both eat a lot.

Speaking of the devil, he glides in and graces me with his presence. My eyes widen. At this point in time I notice two things.

One: where is this man's shirt? The only thing he has on is a pair of long black pants.

Two: he looks human, and I don't mean physically. Well maybe I do...

He rummages through a bag of goodies. I record the stash of food in my mind. Top cabinet. Coconut crackers. _Heck yes_. I just might steal a few of those. Then again he just might notice, and I just might end up with no food at all.

Placing my diabolical plans aside I begin to ask him a question. I start then pause, but I keep going.

"Would it... be alright if I got some food and supplies tomorrow?" I shuffle back and forth on my feet. Yes, no? Maybe so?

He glances at me, takes a crunchy bite out of a buttery cracker, grunts, and leaves as gracefully as he came. I can hear the fabric of his pants shift and ruffle around his feet as he walks away.

I shrug and take it as a yes.

* * *

It is past nine and sleep has yet to call upon me. I feel too jittery- too energized when I shouldn't. I'd be dead asleep by now. I'm not though. This only bothers me slightly.

I bounce out of bed. I want to read. I'm curious about the books stacked endlessly in the library. Hopefully big n' bad won't be there to tell me to go to bed. The dark encyclopedia interests me the most. I wonder why there are so many volumes. Who had the time to write 35 volumes? They must not of had lives.

Tiptoe!

Did he hear me?

Nope, I am in the clear. When I enter the lights are dim. Library dim. Camouflage. I sneak around five rows of book cases and stop where Ansem had been looking earlier. The 35 part series takes up three full shelves. I notice that the thirteenth one is missing. Dang, I wanted to snoop and see what was in that one, too. Oh well. I slide number 13 out of its place. It is exceptionally thick.

"Let's see what's inside," it opens to the very middle. "Dark Follower" is the heading that spans as the title on the left hand side. I realize that this volume categorizes heartless. I flip to the back. It goes into in-depth biological descriptions of a typical heartless. Scientists wrote this. A perfect heartless biology book. I do not have the patience to read this now, but I know I'll pick it back up later. I lift the book and pop it into its empty dusty place. It settles with a light _thunk_.

I opt to look at another book. Eeny meeny miney moe...

My mother told me to pick 33. I remove it and turn a hard cover to a content page.

"Kingdom Hearts," I half mouth, half whisper. This book has to be one of the least thick. I read that it is a door that connects all the worlds. Unfortunately this will be all that I read. Before I can get too interested in lovely 33 I hear foot steps. Foot steps aggravate my inherited paranoia. Flee!

I stuff the book in a random space and escape tiptoeing back the way I came. I am not caught. Fwoo, I take myself to bed.

* * *

He creates a locked file, and types.

_Subject: human_

_Gender: female_

_Height: 4'7_

_Weight: 90-145lbs_

_Subject has been tainted with dark serum. Sedated prior to initial experimentation. Heart was directly exposed to a drop from a test tube._

_I witnessed an immediate change. Subject's heart turned dark as well as eyes. Pupils eclipsed entire eye for a short time._

_As of now, the test subject functions properly. There are no large symptoms as of yet._

_Experimentation shall continue._  
_Ancient description will be kept in mind._

**Author's Notes:**

**This has got to be the LONGEST chapter I have EVER written for everything I have ever written. I did this chapter on my HTC phone in inkpad, and then I sent it to my email and pasted the huge sucker in word. **

**I must say, I am proud. Yes, very, very proud. **

**R&R Input makes me happy. **


	5. Eyes Over Easy

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 5: Eyes over Easy

Different day, same weird ass position. I just know I am going to have back problems. I stretch myself out and let my bones pop back into their proper locations. I feel oddly refreshed. Odd indeed. I woke up so many times last night. Every little sound alerted me. It was like I was never fully asleep.

I check the time like I normally do. The numbers align and tell me it is five in the morning. I will not be late. I begin undressing myself on my bed, and continue to as I tug into the bathroom. I'm going to take a nice hot shower before I do anything today. I think I deserve one since I'm a dark slave and all. Hmm, maybe I will be late again.

As I stand under the spray, I recall that I had dreamt again. It wasn't a nightmare like the other night; it was more weird than frightening. I...had dreamt about myself. What about myself? I wanted something. I wanted someone. I tap my head with a soapy towel. Some of the shower gel gets in my hair. I put a hand over my chest. I can't quite put my finger on it. Something must be wrong with me.

I clear steam from the mirror so that I can brush my hair and shadow my eyes. Lotion comes next. I rub cocoa butter on my brown skin so I won't be ashy later. I don't want myself turning dusty the minute my body dries. I smell myself.

Mmm mmm, _chocolaty_!

I check the clock again while returning all of my shower items into my carrier bag. What? It's only 36 after five. I have broken a record. I am proud. I wiggle my hips and prance out my bedroom door.

Now, I am shocked. Ansem is no where to be found (In the places I am allowed to go of course.) My best hunch is that he is in his own room. I lean so that I can look in its direction. Here we go.

The deep dark lair of the beast! The wolf lays beyond the door; a huge door at that. I hesitate to knock. Should I be down here?

"Nope," I answer myself. I knock.

The sound echoes and leaves everything eerie quite when it disperses. I wait for him to emerge. Several minutes pass, but nothing happens. I knock again. There aren't any growls from the inside. I collect some courage and open the door. This is a really stupid idea, but it's too late now. I am already inside.

Ansem's room is dark, but I find I can see. The room is spread out to where there is plenty of open space. There is a drawer, cabinets, a large bathroom to my left and full windows with nice curtains. A little bit of light is shed from behind them. There are even decorations, and a color scheme. I am jealous. This room is fan~cy.

I spot a god-sized bed at the far center of the master bedroom, and in it, the sleeping silhouette of a man.

I move slower to stay quiet. It's not hard. The carpet is so soft; I can barely make a sound. It's much better than mine. He must have taken the time to fix up this room. No wonder it's kept all to himself. I look up from the floor, and back to the bed. I am close enough to see Ansem's face. His nose twitches.

I jump a mile high. I release a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

Ansem still carries an almost silent snore. Assuming he is not awake, I look a little closer. All of his white hair is fanned messily over his pillows. His face is softened by a light sleep save for his scrunched eyebrows. It's funny that he still finds a way to look mean.

Hmm, he is half naked. He must have gotten rid of the pants he had on last night. The covers of his bed are pushed back far around his hips exposing the line of his back and the elastic band of his underwear. He looks like a big boy.

Cute? Naw, that's not the word.

I wish I had a stick, but I do not. My arm will just have to do. I cautiously poke a muscled shoulder. The bronze skin there is firm and smooth. I let my finger linger there before I move it. His eyes fly open like an old oven door opens to reveal fire. They're doing that glow in the dark thing again. I find them pretty...in a creepy kind of way.

Ansem looks up at me from over his arm. His eyebrows become more scrunched. Early morning confusion is written all over his face. I smile at him showing all of my teeth. Morning!

"You're late," I tap his shoulder again, but with my littlest finger.

I have aggravated him. The beast rises slowly from his den and prowls towards me. Uh oh. I have made him mad? I never got a chance to make a will and testament.

"Um...," I shuffle backwards. I don't know what will happen if I turn my back.

He is showing his pearly whites too, except he's not smiling. Before I know it Big n' bad is looming far over me. I have to crane my neck directly upwards to see him face to face. I couldn't run fast enough. He has caught me and I'm too scared to move.

"Ow!" He grabs the bridge of my nose between two of his knuckles.

Excruciatingly slow he leans down to my face. My hair is moved to the side exposing what was hidden behind it. His lips are so close to my ear I can feel him draw in air. Warm breath wafts against the sensitive side of my neck and over my shoulder. I close my eyes tight. Another cheek rubs against mine.

"You're early. Get out," he whispers and the dark, husky, vibrating tone makes my skin crawl. My pulse beats on high causing my already rushing blood to run hot. I catch a cold fever.

"Okay...,"

...

Did you hear that?

That was the sound of a door slamming in my face. I rub my nose to realign my cartilage and proceed to hyperventilate. Dear god, I need a brown paper bag. I can't breathe.

* * *

After Ansem failed to re-emerge I took it upon myself to go out for food and supplies. I considered going to another world, but then I'd have to ask Ansem for a way there. That was way out of the question. Besides, I saw glimpses of people when Maleficent had lead me here. There we a couple of shops, too. Maybe I'll even find a moogle to bargain with.

I look up to the sky over a baron reef. It's dark and cloudy. I sniff the air. I can smell the humidity. It's going to rain soon. My hair has already begun to frizz at the ends.

"I better make this quick then," before I know it I am walking down a flight of stairs and into the city. Almost no one is here. Hollow Bastion. The name fits.

Click, Click. Heels on metal. Mechanical streams of light erect from the ground every couple of steps. I'm not sure what they are, but I keep an eye on them. I heard this world is just a tad bit dangerous.

"Who might you be little lady?" Someone with a gruffed accent acknowledges me.

"Names Phoebe," I casually answer them. I throw the strap of my carrier bag on my shoulder. A big blonde with a cigarette and a five o'clock shadow gives me the tip of his chin.

"What brings ya to town?" He puffs on his cigarette. It's skill when you don't have to take it out of your mouth.

"I just need some food and other stuff," he seems friendly enough. He walks with me, and I don't mind.

"You should find the triplets if ur' lookin' for a good store. They sell all kinds of stuff there," he walks with his hands on his hips.

"Thank you very much," I flash him a small smile, "What's your name sir? I told you mine,"

"Cid," he reduces his cigarette to a short nub and blows the smoke like a dragon through his nose.

"Well it's been a pleasure Cid. I need to get going before it rains," I shake his hand.

"No problem, I need to be headin' back myself. Be safe. The heartless are nasty round here," He waves and leaves towards the square. I'll keep it in mind to remember Cid.

I find the triplet's store area a lot faster than I thought I would. Would you believe my luck? There is a moogle here, too.

The triplets are ducklings. Stuff like this doesn't surprise me anymore. If it wasn't for their different colors, you wouldn't be able to tell them apart.

"Good morning! Huey, Duey, and Louie at your service," All three of them greet me in perfect unison. Ah, charming they have matching names.

"Good morning," I greet back. I pull my munny pouch from my bag and a groceries list I had made the night before. I make small talk with the boys as I pick my purchases. They are sweet, but mischievous. They remind me of someone I know.

I pay for all seven of my bags, wave goodbye, and move on to the moogle.

"What'll it be, kupo?" The little red ball that dangles from its head sways as it nods at me.

"Two elixirs, one ring it doesn't matter what kind as long as it's fire, and five hi-potions," I check my list to make sure I don't forget anything.

The price I pay is slightly outrageous, though I've seen worse. Moogles are tricky things. They jack up their prices like Indian clerks. Ugh, the price I pay for quality wares. When I am done with my shopping I only have 2,000 munny left. At least I got all that I wanted.

A bright crack of lightening is followed by the loud boom of thunder. I need to leave. It will start pouring any second now.

* * *

Rain pelts the windows. It sounds hard enough to be hail. Heartless hide under objects like cats hide under house furniture. More thunder. I sigh contently. I've always liked a good thunder storm. I stack three bags of flour into a cabinet emptying my first bag.

Thunder pronounces its self again and slaps all the lights clean out. I didn't notice it until I started putting bottles of milk and juice into the refrigerator. The inside lights don't come on. Damn.

It's a good thing I bought matches. I shuffle around kitchen drawers and find some dusty candles in the middle island. I light three of them: one by the stove, and two near myself. The whole kitchen flickers and glows with an Orange tint. The smell of burning wick engulfs the air. I like that smell. I move on to my fifth sack. Two more to go.

Just as I am reaching for the eggs, I freeze.

"When did you walk in?" I see Ansem rummaging through the top left cabinet out of the corner of my eye. He's got salt water taffy instead of coconut crackers. Well, he put some pants back on, but not a shirt.

"Not very long ago," he un-wraps and pops a taffy into his mouth.

"You scared me," I keep some distance between him and I and stuff the eggs onto a shelf in the refrigerator.

"Did I now?" He leans back on the counter and eats another. Ansem doesn't leave like I want him to. No, he's come to watch me.

"Do you really need the candles?" Ansem crosses his legs and follows me with predatory eyes.

I pause to think. "Well, no not really but I find the burning smell comforting. Are they bothering you?" I stare at one of the candles so my eyes don't wonder.

"No, they aren't. But, why keep them lit?"

"Just because," when I am finished, I but the paper bags away.

"Are you done?" He licks his finger with the tip of a pink tongue.

"Yes,"

All of the candles go out.

There is another flashing round of thunder and lightning. The rain pours even harder rattling metal on the outside. I stiffen. In that short amount of time Ansem has moved to my side; almost behind me.

"Would you like to know something?" He twirls a candy wrapper between his fingers. He leers through his glowing amber orbs.

I nod.

"In darkness, it doesn't matter what you can see. It's what you can feel," he rolls the twirled plastic into a ball.

"Feel?" I nervously pull at my fingers. I'm going to wind up ripping them off.

"Light trains you to rely too much on your sight. So Phoebe, do you know where I am?" He moves over more. He has two arms. One arm for each side of my body. Large russet hands lay flat on the counter. I hear his voice more in his chest than I hear it come out of his mouth.

"Yes, I do," I lower my head.

"Then you didn't need the light," He places a piece of candy onto my hand. I don't open it.

"I see it as more of a preference," I mumble. He leans more into me.  
"Well put," he chuckles like he knows something. I keep trying to resist the urge to turn around and bolt for the door. I fumble around with the piece of candy until I eventually do eat it. Ansem still does not leave; never moves from around me. I run out of things to divert my attention. I end up listening to myself chew.

"Am I still scaring you?" He asks in my ear. The rage outside illuminates the shadows of our skin.

"No, you're making me nervous," I have a bad habit of being honest.

"Nervous?" He pretends he is shocked. "How so?" He takes my wrapper from me and bunches it up. It's discarded on the counter top just like all of the others.

I can't form a proper answer to his question. "Mmm...," I shrug in hopes that Ansem will leave it alone, but he probes further. What is he trying to get at?

He's chuckling again. "I assume you won't answer that question so I'll ask another. Do I intimidate you?" There are tugs on strands of my hair. He's out of wrappers to crumble.

Of course, Ansem asks a question he already knows the answer to. I squeeze knuckles they pop. "No, not at all," I keep all the sarcasm from leaking into my voice.

"I don't think you're sure, Phoebe." I wince every time he speaks my name.

Ansem's hands leave the counter to rub my shoulders. "But, if you say so," the power flickers back on, and so do the kitchen lights.

He's gone. But I know where he went.

I am shaken and a little stirred. I head towards the library.

**Author's Notes: **

**I typed this one out on my phone again. I like this chapter a lot for some reason. Well, read and review. c: It'll get even better in the next. :D  
**


	6. Little Crime Would Be Cold

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 6: My Little Crime Would Be Cold

He lurks hidden in the shadows of the library. Wind and thunder from beyond the walls make the foundation quake. He is thinking to himself. The next hour, the next moment in time draws near. He props himself on a cushioned chair.

He's so interested in her...her ever growing darkness; the witty little confusion she holds. He finds it funny that she doesn't realize the depth of what is to come. It is intriguing that her resistance has held for so long. He wants to edge her on- record the reaction and witness it finally engulf her. Oh, what he gave her should do just fine on its own, but he can't help but expedite the process. Patience is something he normally has, but this is different. It _excites_ him.

Besides, what is she to him? A servant woman. What's wrong with squeezing a few more drops of purpose out of her? Why not have a little amusement, too? Maleficent knew what she was doing when she handed the woman over. There was no good intention.

He knows she's afraid. He can smell it and see it when goose bumps rise on her skin. He gets just a bit too close, and hisses that she should be _terrified_. He chuckles because it's just so funny to see her face when his hand is around her throat. That little crime was cold, but he doesn't care.

The smell she emits it's so tainted that it drives him silently rabid. So much tantalizingly sweet darkness, even the heartless can't distinguish her.

Her symptoms are just as he expected and so much more. But, there is still something left to be discovered: Her want. Curious, he wonders what it could be. Munny, power, youth, sex. He wouldn't pin her down for any, but only the running time would tell now.

Soon enough her darkness will consume her leaving her thirsty with her deepest desires. This is how the story goes. She will want just as the partakers of the January Jardinière. They drank and drank till they lost control; poisoned and sick. They choked on their own infected sins. They were too naive for this measure of darkness in their upside-down world. Too human, or too weak.

She's adapted well though, he'll give her that. No other victim of his past experiments would have lasted beyond a day. Other than what he knows is obviously wrong she looks and functions as she had before. It's as if she's been desensitized to something deadly.

He senses movement from beyond the many shelves and sets his thoughts aside. His subject has come to the library. He remains perfectly still in his dark corner, and simply observes. He is where he knows she wants to go.

She is snooping through bits of the library's collected information. She won't pick them up. She wants the black books- the encyclopedia. She made the mistake of leaving one out of place. He noticed. He notices everything.

He sees all of her know. Lightning flashes and makes the lamp lights on tables waver. He is not seen, not yet. He sees her slip out the book she'd misplaced. It was kept in its incorrect spot. For she would be alerted if he had moved it to were the book belonged.

She moves it back herself. She unexpectedly picked out another book from the three shelves. He can hear her sigh as she did this morning in the kitchen. It's well past noon. It wasn't to long ago that he had first come to taunt. She opens the book and reads.

"Heartless are entities that linger between biotic and abiotic existence. A majority are produced through the darkness of exiled (expelled or stolen from the body and spirit) hearts, some manufactured and/or originaly bred into existence. Hence, emblem and pureblood have their own categories with classes, orders, phylums, etc. None the less, both quantify with an legitimate amount of darkness and common characteristics that make them different and alike," she flips through the pages searching for something a little more interesting. He sees that something catches her eye and she places a piece of paper there as a book mark.

"Find something you like?" He asks anonymously. He crosses his arms over his bare chest and waits for her answer. She shoves the book back where it belongs and turns towards him.

* * *

"Only this one," you lie. You_ knew_ you would find him here. How you didn't conclude that you would be caught in the encyclopedia was beyond even yourself. It was good while it lasted.

He's so phantom like popping up when you don't want him. And the way he talks like he knows something you don't. Only the morning has passed, but here you both are again.

"Bring that here won't you?" You grab the book again and temp slowly in his direction. You remind yourself to take deep breaths. You have to breathe. Breathe Phoebe. You heave another sigh.

Your eyes dart out a glistening window. Nails dig into the spine of the book you hold. The lightning reminds you that the castle is dark; that he himself should be hard to see. You ate, but your stomach starts to hurt. Keeping out of his reach you fork over book number 13.

"Come now, a little closer. I usually don't bite," your eyes become locked on his and you find you can't tear away this time. Something weird. Something you can't describe, or pin as good or bad, spikes the unknown in you. Something about him makes you...makes you want to. What? What is it? He keeps you from figuring out, because he's all a part of it.

You acquire a spontaneous head ache.

"Is there something you want?" You ask him curtly. Honey brown still set on bright orange gold.

"Watch your tone silly woman. I thought you wouldn't mind a chat," he lets the book hang over your head.

"I recall chatting with you earlier," you're pulling and popping your knuckles. Nervous habits die hard.

"It's not like you were talking dear," he leans back more on one of the library chairs. His forearms rest on his thighs.

"Then what makes you think I want to talk now?"

"What makes you think I won't force you? You forget your place," You close your mouth and accept defeat. You're reminded that this is his nice side.

He sneers with his eyes. "Volume 13 is Heartless Taxonomy. Why this one?" He asks you tipping the book and poking your nose with one of its edges.

"Why not? I wanted to read something so I picked it up," you want to sit down but he's occupying the only seat. He won't share. You wouldn't want to share it with him.

"Just a notable choice," you watch him read the engraved letters on the volume's side.

"And where do you fit?"

"Hmm?" He lazily gazes at you from under his eyelashes.

"You're a heartless aren't you?"

"I am,"

"Then why do you look-,"

"Like a man?" He finishes your question before you can.

"Yeah, why?" You hug your arms. It's cold and the rain has started to pelt the outside again.

"I haven't quite figured that out myself," he hums and your nose flares.

"Maybe you should count yourself lucky,"

"Hmph," he spreads his legs wide and pats the tops of his thighs.

Your eyes widen and your brows raise high on your forehead. "Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?"

"Sit,"

* * *

His lap is a lot warmer than it should be. You have never felt more uncomfortable/comfortable/heated/ awkward/ in your entire life. You are sitting in the big bad wolf's lap. You can tell it's going to be a very long day.

He adjusts and your forced to sit more into him. You curl into yourself as much as you possibly can and avoid touching him anywhere. Bare feet are propped into the chair's seat cushion under the both of you. Okay, attempt to remain silent. Let's get this over with.

* * *

The (almost one sided) conversation lingered forever and a day. I planned on cleaning today, but Ansem decided to have his own ideas. I sat in his lap so long that after a while my butt started to hurt. I rub my back and crawl onto the center of my bed. I hug my legs and sniff my shirt. Urgh, I smell like him. A deep wood kinda scent. Deep wood and man and, something else. Does darkness have a scent? If it does I bet that's it.

I try to recall the conversation. I frown. It kinda went like this:

Ansem: blah blah blah darkness blah blah hearts blah blah woman

Me: ...

Ansem: Random question

Me: ...

Ansem: Valid threat

Me: Leaks my classified information

Ansem: blah blah blah

Outside: rumbblecrackboom peltpeltpelt rattlerattle

Me: ...

Eh, I was only half listening. I agreed with a few things about darkness anyway. What bothers me the most however, is how I feel. I can't stop my toes from curling. My back spasms. I squeeze my thighs together and press my full lips into a tight line. I've sighed more today than I would in a week.

My stomach churns sharply like the stinging tingle you feel when you're falling fast and far.

I want to be back in his lap.

That simple fact has my knuckles popping again. I'm confusing myself. I don't know what I want anymore.

I un-wrap a stick of ice cream smuggled from the kitchen. The tangy mango flavor is comforting. I suck on it till only the wooden stick is left. I lick the left over Popsicle liquid from my fingers, throw the stick away, and turn the light out.

It's not very late into the evening, but it's dark enough to sleep. Who knew listening to someone talk all day while you sit on your butt was so tiring. Reminds me of school.

I strip naked and throw on a nice sized t-shirt. For once I actually braid my hair. The second my head hits the pillow, I do not move. My system is set to shut down.

_...this night I dream I'm in pleasure._

**Author's Notes:**

**Hmm, I have nothing much to say other than this chapter was tricky to write. I'm going to sleep now, my work is done.**

**R&R feed me your review. **


	7. I know, I know

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 7: I know, I know

The early morning goes by in a haze. I only remember past ten. Eggs, pancakes, sausage, hash browns. I have spent my late morning cooking breakfast in the kitchen. The aroma rises and mixes pleasantly with the husk smell of humidity in the air. I grope my hand through a high cabinet in search for cups. As I pull a stack down, a cold tap explodes with moisture on shoulder. I look up to find yet another water leak.

"One more. Did it really rain that hard?" I rip a bundle of paper towels and set them under the drip. I'll be cleaning that and the other thousand leaks forming in the fortress.

From a jug and into a glass I pour grape juice. The full glass puts a smile on my face. Grape juice is luxury, well, next to grape jam. When I am done I set my food aside. Ansem did not request a plate, but I know I have to bring him one, too. The trip to his office is short and sweet (thankfully). He sits distracted in his chair wearing the coat-glove get up he had the first day I met him. I suspect he'll be going somewhere. His meal is placed on his desk side, and soon its scent calls his attention. No comments. _Good_, I walk out.

I eat a majority of the food on my ceramic plate. The rest gets stored in the old refrigerator for later. I'll probably eat leftovers tonight. Who doesn't enjoy the occasional night breakfast?

Full and satisfied, I return to Ansem's study to collect his dishes. Nothing is left. The platter is wiped clean. Like damn, I thought I ate enough. I put quite a bit in that meal.

Big man= big plate.

He drinks his juice in three deep gulps and that's assassinated, too. I have the feeling I'll be going out frequently to buy food.

* * *

I just remembered to put on underwear.

Wait, no, I put on some this morning.

...

No, I only put on a bra...

It's a good thing Ansem didn't ask me to do anything (it's good he didn't look at me either). I still don't remember what I did earlier this morning. Who knows what would have gone wrong. I cringe just thinking of the possible incidents.

I change. The used smell of my t-shirt is starting to bug me.

I need to put on underwear...

* * *

Ruler! Where is a ruler? I feel the need to document the size of this mound of dirt. This is just the first inner hallway. Astounding. This is a _ground breaking_pile of dirt. I continue sweeping and adding on to my "creation". I shake my head. How does this happen? I contemplate donating it to a sandbox.

Out the pile goes. I wrap up a full trash bag and move on to a second hallway. I'll only sweep near the living areas. It's not like anywhere else here matters.

Another exemplary pile of dirt. Oh, this one has scrap metal in it. It is bigger than the last. It breaks another record. Why is there so much?

I turn and pass back through the doors of the study. I catch only Ansem's left leg as he exits through a dark corridor. The dark tresses disperse and evaporate leaving nothing behind. He is gone. I sweep there for a while. There isn't as much dust here.

I cannot resist. I eye ball Ansem's desk and become fixed with the left information. I just can't help but be nosey. I casually look over his numerous notes. I make sure not to move anything out of place. He's the type to notice things moved 0.00001 degrees to the left.

He has acceptable handwriting, though some of it is hard to read. It all seems to talk about finding a door to darkness. There's another recurring word, too. Key... key something. I can't understand the rest. There's just more rambling.

A speck of red catches my attention from a shelf on his desk. There is an open sketchbook stuck neatly between a cubby space. He's not half bad. There are random doodles. An assortment of ornate blades, chains, a detailed sketch of a floating heart in a cloudy night sky (that one is slightly colored), and a bronze knight kneeling on one knee.

Just like bits of his writing some of his outlines and sketches are hard to make out. It's just bit little to abstract for me to fully comprehend. I wonder if it's all random, or if it means something. I suppose I'll never know.

Something creeks to my right.

I _run_. Not even my foot prints are left behind.

* * *

Babe, pat me on the back and tell me I'm good. In only four hours I have straightened up the archives room (though the broken water pipe will have to wait), swept and mopped the hallways, tended to the small water leaks, wiped down the kitchen, and had time to snoop. Ah, one accomplishment after another. Phoebe is on a roll today. Oh! Just in time for a nap.

I already figured Ansem wouldn't be back for a while. I took the liberty of jacking a volume of the encyclopedia from the library. I open my hefty creaky bedroom window to let an after storm breeze roll in. It's warm and cool and earthy. I take a deep breath and prop open the book on my lap. I'm sure Ansem won't mind.

I search for the stub of paper I inserted yesterday.

"I left off here," I read while I braid my hair into a pony tail.

"Heartless are classified into to categories much like kingdoms. These "kingdoms" are pureblood and emblem. As the heartless are classified further you determine an exact species," I skim the paragraphs I understand. Scientists have a knack for writing with lengthy words.

I eventually get bored with the introduction. _Flip_, heartless consumption. They eat things other than hearts? I didn't know that. _Flip_, structures. Some have bones? I didn't know that either. _Flip_, reproduction. Skipping that! _Flip_, the rest names the species like a dog or horse atlas.

I close volume 13 and place it on my bedside table. Yawning, I curl up under the first cover of the bed. It is well past nap time.

* * *

In the blink of my opening eye, I am snatched up and pinned to the edge of the bed by my shoulders. My heart skips three full beats. The only thing that stops me from shrieking is a familiar face.

"Was he here?" Hostile. Ansem violently shakes my shoulders.

"What?" I am confused. My breaths huff out in fast paced high pitched wheezes. I have been scarred half to death. I must have slept for a long time because it's dark and his eyes are again glowing.

"_Was he here?_" he shakes me harder. I have to wrap my legs around his waist and put my arms on his to keep myself from falling onto the floor.

"Who is he?" I yell.

"Don't lie to me, wretch. Was. He. Here?" I think my shoulders will bruise. He rattles and shook me so harshly that I'm become dizzy.

"I don't know who you're talking about! I've been here by _myself_all day, Ansem!"

He flings me back to the bed, and lets my shoulders go. He snorts, grits his teeth, and leaves just as angry as he suddenly came.

I breathe in and out to calm myself. Closing my eyes I push my legs tight together. My stomach churns painfully. I suppress urge to let my toes curl. Hot chills run down my spine and to the tips of my fingers. The ache in my chest decides it wants to come back. _It stings_. A shaky sigh wobbles from my mouth.

"Someone had a bad day,"

**Author's Notes:**

**Ahh, this chapter is a bit short, but still good. Hmm, now who is he? I'd like to know.**

**R&R much appreciated! **


	8. Weak With Fear

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 8: Weak with Fear

I can not sleep. I can't fall into the next day of my life. No matter how hard I try to relax myself peace just won't come. I feel pricking tingles in my legs; an itch in my fingers. Breathing becomes silent. My pulse thumps loudly. I can hear it in my ears. I rub my temples to ebb the strong beat.

I throw off all the covers and wipe away a thin coat of sweat from my neck and face. My heart rate quickens as I turn over on my side. I'm moving too much. I attempt to close my eyes again.

Hands. I feel hands. Crawling, creeping under my skin and settling in my flesh. Claws scratch and pluck at my cords.

Hushed whispers against my ear. They are faint murmurs...telling me all I want to hear._ "Greenheart...Greenheart... Greenheart,"_ When they fade they leave behind high pitched ringing. Blood chilling screaming behind my eyes.

Eyelids up. It all slips away.

I sit up in the dark and transfix myself on something, anything. _Anything_ but a nightmare. I become still again. I haven't felt this uncertain in a while.

Snarling. There's an argument and a far light from my bed room door. Down from were I am, Ansem is livid. He's speaking to someone but I can't tell who. It must be a person I don't know. His deep voice rises in anger and I am able to catch parts of the conversation. I am clueless to much of what is being said between him and the mystery guest. I squint and listen more.

Ansem says my name.

"What?"

This is enough for my curiosity to get the better of me. Slowly I swing myself out of bed. My vision blurs as I stand on my feet. The circulation in my body runs cold before warming and steadying my balance. I peak around the corner. Shadowy outlines glide on steal walls and move out of view from Ansem's dimly lit study.

I step using the top platforms of my feet. A creak here, another creak there. The floors want me in trouble. I am closer now. I become frozen in movement. The voices are louder. The other person from what I can tell is a deep set man.

"...I wouldn't expect this from you. Accepting a stranger? Quite a change. Now that you have brought it up I am perplexed. Why, what's the purpose to you?"  
says the mystery man.

"Nothing that concerns you. I'll accept who I deem necessary," venom drips from Ansem's reply.

I back myself into the wall so that I can see something, but I can't without getting caught. I move over in inches. My arm presses into the study's cold door frame.

"Maleficent was it? She won't come back," the man adds.

"I predicted this, I'm no fool,"

"Then why, I ask. What will you do afterward? The dept, as you have said, is only two years."

"Whatever I want,"

The other man sighs. "I was hoping to have a haste free chat with my long time acquaintance, but I suppose not,"

"Tend to your own business,"

"So be it," the thunk of foot steps is followed by the unmistakable sound of an opening corridor of darkness. Mystery man leaves.

I tense as the bickering ends. That means I need to hurry and leave. Ansem moves towards the door. I ready myself for a quick get away.

Just as I lift my left leg I feel a brisk movement of air. I should really work on my timing. Ansem's already upset, but I can't help but make it worse. At my discovery he grabs the bridge of my nose yet again and precedes to re- dissalign my cartilage.

"Ow, wait let me explain," I whine. It really hurts this time. I'll have to add it to my list of Ansem inflicted injuries. He twists my nose between his knuckles and a hot tear rolls down my cheek. I squeal. He uses my nose to drag me right back down to my room. Curiosity will kill me one day.

Just before I am thrown to the floor, he becomes level with me. Face directly to face.

"If I catch you again I'll make sure you're screaming,"

Valid threat detected. I nod my head like an idiot. I just want him to let my face go.

I fall to the carpet and he stomps away. The light in the hallway disappears and I'm left alone in the dark again. I touch a finger gingerly to my nose. I am bleeding in both of my nostrils. Lesson learned...maybe.

I drag myself into the bathroom so that I can wash the blood away. My nose burns as I swab over an hot towel. I will probably need some ice soon but its unlikely I'd be able to venture into the kitchen for it. I stick with hot water and leave my nose alone.

When I am done, I slip back under the covers and shiver. Sleep, need sleep. Eventually it meets me half way. My pain fades as it consumes me.

I dream I'm in Wonderland...with a nose bleed.

* * *

"Wake up," I get an unexpected alarm. Ansem pinches me on the fat of my shoulders. Ow! He must like causing me pain.

On the outside I tell him "Okay," but on the inside its more of a "Go away," or a "Man, get out of my room." Nonetheless, I get up and follow his commands.

"Get dressed," he stays to make sure that I do. It helps to pretend he's not there. Though, that's hard when you turn your back and you know he's staring.

The last of my clothes goes on and he flicks his hand upwards summoning a dark corridor. I feel a pang of fear.

"Where does this lead to?" I hesitate and comb a hand through my unbraided hair.

He doesn't answer me. He walks through the swirling vortex and I have no choice but to follow slowly behind. I rub my face thus agitating my nose. Groan. If I were to look into a mirror I know is find a bruise. What ever this is it must be the other half of my retribution.

I prepare for the absolute worst.

This is not surprising. The other side of the corridor is dark. Dark- Dark. Dark like an Oreo cookie. Dark like the inside of your closet at night. It's just _dark_. What more is there to say? There's nothing but dark here where ever we are. Ansem seems to know were he's going. I wish I did.

He's moving farther away so I quicken my pace so I don't lose him. It would really suck if I got lost. He won't come back to get me. I'll be lost and that will be that. There's, no roads, no path, no light, no nothing. I question what we're even walking on.

Ansem abruptly stops. His foots steps no longer echo.

"Why have we stopped? Where are we?" No reply is given. Ansem stares ahead.

I walk around him to see where he's watching. A cliff? At least I think. We are right at its final edge. He jumps. The force of his legs sends him head first diving out of my non-view.

"Crazy!" I'm not about to jump off some dark ledge! I pace nervously in a line. What are my choices? I look behind me to not see where I had come from. I look in front of me. I can't even see where I know I'm going to have to go. I take a leap and jump propelling myself over an invisible line.

I'm falling.

**Authors Notes:**

**Herp Derp, cliff diving. :I The story presses on! **

**Short, but for a good reason. **


	9. You Think It's Over

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 9: You think it's Over but It's Just Begun

Wind cast, an explosion on her skin stings against everyone of her pores. No air, wet, she's been engulfed by vast water. When she opens her eyes to the blur of the sea she can see him. He is far from her under the sway and shimmer of waves above. He puts a curve in his back, straightens his legs, and heads for the surface. She reaches an arm out for him and swims till she runs out of air. They emerge together above the dark horizon. In the distance there is a dull light.

* * *

She plants herself on a glinting black-blue rock to rid the water from her shoes and hair. Sand covers the bottom of her feet and sticks to parts of her clothes from dragging herself to the shoreline.

"Ansem, where are we?" She asks again and combs her hands through her dark dripping hair.

"Dark Margin," is all he says in return before he's on the move again. She leaps off the rock with a sigh and re-continues walking.

"Hurry, Phoebe,"

His tone is slow and deep. He means it. She hurries. The stale salty wind that blows there whips her drying hair around her face and ices her to her core. She shivers because it makes her cold.

Shhhhhh Shhhhh

They both leave foot steps in the grainy black. She tiptoes in the centers of his imprints, but only when the hills of sand become to deep and tedious for her to make her own.

She looks behind. This time she can see where they have been. The abstract shapes fade from her vision as she staggers to keep up with his long strides. It's silent. The sea's crashing waves are the only things heard by listening ears. She doesn't like almost-utter silence.

"Aren't you cold?" She speaks. It's hard to stop herself from shaking.

"No," he stops his trek for a last time and looks beyond the landscape.

She comes to his side and stands close. He glowers at her, but lends her his arm to cease her pathetic quivering. Hesitantly she wraps her own arms around his muscular limb and siphons the heat that radiates from his body.

"Thank you," she presses into his side. He grunts, but doesn't move her.

"Look beyond the desolate rifts of sand. What do you see?" He lifts his chin and raises his head high. She looks in the direction his eyes do.

"I don't see anything, Ansem," she clings gripping the thick fabric of his coat.

"Are you so sure?" there it is again. He knows something.

A long pause. "Yes, I'm sure I don't see anything. Do you?"

"Memory, memory Phoebe. Tsk tsk tsk," the arm he gave her is taken away. Two hands are set heavily on her shoulders. His shadow looms above her head and hides her own.

Uh oh. On the inside she swells with a sudden spark of fear.

The hand that weighed down her left shoulder hovers above her neck. Slowly he taps her chest unlocking a rift into her soul. She gasps whimpering her hasty protests. Without warning he clutches her exposed heart.

She screams reeling back in pain. The back of her head thumps loudly against his hard chest. She thrashes but he's got her tight under his claws. He squeezes harder and she responds with a louder scream that shatters the silence the world was so accustomed to.

Another searing twist of her spirit collapses the surface of her eyes and turns her murky on the inside. He presses his nose into the side of her neck and relishes in the savory scent of her toiled darkness.

"Give in. Give into it," he licks his teeth.

When she can take no more he grabs her by her stomach and uses his other hand to yank up her head and fix open her weary eyes.

"Now Phoebe," he whispers darkly. "What do you see?"

* * *

Door.

A door.

A grand door.

Grand and far in the distance. Far from anyone's reach.

No, not one door. Two. Boundless and untouched. She feels that there should be one more. But, there isn't.

She tastes the name of the third on the tip of her tongue. She can, can't see it, and he knows now that she can- can't...when he turns out the lights.

Out they go...

Memory Memory

"That's a good girl,"

* * *

Down she drowns in a split second he holds her. A second of eternity on the inside. The voices are screaming again like people tortured by ropes and thrown in infernos of fire.

The hands that sank deep into her flesh emerge, rip pieces and portions away. Wearing away years of her paint. Clawing making everything burn on the insides. They're hissing, yelling, cackling, and turning her sanity inside out.

"Make it stop," she pleads him to.

No stopping, he's much too amused. She eventually gives up.

They—it takes over; tells her what she wants. The want she's need all along.

Close you eyes now...

Shhhh shhhhh

**Author's Notes:**

**Another short chapter, but with good reason. There is another part to this but I feel it would be too much. **

**Hmm, haha, it seems one moment Ansem is Nonchalant, and in the next he's painfully cruel. **

**R&R **


	10. Posibilities

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 10: Possibilities

Move. Move.

Why won't you move?

It is the feeling of a frozen body stiffened by sleep, or maybe just unconsciousness dulling her brain waves. The mind rebooted and failed to run a memo past the body. If that wasn't enough, she was also in a position where she couldn't possibly breathe. So, she lies in a still state of anxiety as she waits for her total being to warm up and function.

Moooove? Please? Maybe?

Her surroundings echo with her deep gasp. She could finally move. Craining out the line of her neck, she coughs and draws in puffs of air. The lingering tang of sea salt is tasted as she licks her full lips.

She remembers where she was today.

A realm of darkness floats faintly in the very back of her memory. She recalls being at what he called the 'Dark Margin'. She runs her small hand over her cheek. A granule of sand is swept, and pinched away onto a floor.

Then, she thinks of where she should be; where she always winds up when she can't remember the events of parted time. Funny thing is, though, that...

"This," after a moment of just laying there, she spares a minute to really look around.

"...is not my room,"

She slept (or possibly slipped into a coma) and burned away the early afternoon. She bets that she almost drowned. She doesn't even remember making it to where ever the hell Ansem had been leading her to. She remembers demonic screaming and the warmth of his body, but that's all.

Warmth is suddenly all over the more she tries to think of him. This is when she realizes that she's in his room, laying in his bed.

"Question mark?" She slowly maneuvers herself to face the other side. To answer her prayers, he is not there with her. Then again, if he was, she would have known far before now.

The atmosphere and essence of the room bleed, and _ooze_ of Ansem. Dark colors every where. Even his bed sheets are some form of black. She snickers and curls into herself to take up the smallest portion of his bed possible. This is not a hard task. His bed is fit for his size. It makes her appear like a doll lain on a child's mattress.

She takes in a deep breath through her nose. His room smells like him, too. The musk of deep woods, man, and assumed darkness. It's appealing like cologne posters  
printed in back and white.

"My clothes?" She pats her sides. Her first layers of clothes are missing leaving her in the tank top and short shorts she wore underneath.

Mustering up some strength she pushes herself into a barrel roll off of the bed and onto the soft carpet. It's too risky to try out her legs, and plus, she's to lazy to walk like a normal person. Roll she does into the sight of the master bathroom. No one over there.

She twists onto her stomach to peer at a clock. Much of the day is still left to live. A scratching sound from the closed door draws her concentration. Crawling onto her knees she tunes into the sound. More scratching, and then the addition of squeals.

Grudgingly she stands on her creaking legs and cracks open the door. She looks down.

"Ugh, go away,"

Heartless crawl and scuttle in every corner. Bundles of them sink into the floor and slither through the cracks of Ansem's bedroom door.

She jumps back letting the door fly open. "Get out!" She summons her Motivation. Its microphone handle is held tight; its whip coiled in her knuckles. A brave heartless lunges for her side.

_Wa- CRACK!_

It's erased from existence. Another pop of the cord flashes a bright vibrating sound wave that makes the metal walls wail and the floor quake. The heartless retreat to the hallway.

Speaking of the hallway.

When she leaves his room she isn't surprised to find that the heartless are _everywhere_. Clumps of them attack each other in frenzy.

"What's wrong here?" She cracks her whip backhand and slings heartless out of the path of the hall. Sound disrupts the air.

"Move out of the way!" Her weapon is lifted high again, but just as she swings, someone catches her arm.

* * *

"You're making a racket," I didn't even notice Ansem approach. He looks just as annoyed as I do.

"They're the problem," I yank my arm away and he lets it go.

"Something has agitated them," he growls some unspoken command, and they stop their mosh. One by one they leave back to the shadowy corners of where they came.

"Agitated? That means?" I question.

"Someone was here," Ansem glowers and moves away from me.

"Hey, wait," I follow him. "Who?"

"Someone I know,"

"I assume this is a bad thing,"

He gives me a look. I sling my weapon over and let it wrap around my shoulder. I wonder if Mystery Man stirred up the heartless while we were away.

"Um, by the way, why was I in your room?" I cross my arms.

"I placed you where I assumed the heartless wouldn't go. It seems I was mistaken," he sounds indifferent enough. I let that go.

"Hmm, and my clothes?"

"They were wet,"

"You...took them off yourself?"

"Yes,"

Okay, that's nice to know. My face warms till it's hot. An invisible blush covers my cheeks. I try to ignore it. I can't help but find that embarrassing, and unsettling. I need to stop falling unconscious.

"I didn't drown did I?" I clear my throat.

He takes a long moment to answer. "Yes,"

I knew it. I sigh, and puff out my checks in deep annoyance. Only me.  
At least I didn't die.

Quickly, suddenly, I swear out of no where, I am slammed into a hard corner of the wall. Ansem's arms guard each side of me. A one-heartless stampede angrily rushes by. A Behemoth, ew. It doesn't make it to the end before its eradicated. It really does make me wonder who could have done all of this. This is _ridiculous_!

"Thanks?" When it's quiet again, we are left to stare at each other. I don't look away because he doesn't. His body is too close to mine. I get urges. The urge to move a little closer. The lurching feeling to tilt my face towards his. I resist because that's weird of me. I shouldn't want that, but I don't really know what I want. Do I?

Do I?

* * *

Hold this. Take that. Come here. Go there.

Okay.

Papers, slavery, heartless, and dust. This will be my life for the next two years. Though, I'm not sure what we were doing this morning, (seems like a recurring pattern) its work we're doing now.

Weird tension: what I'm going to be feeling everyday. I don't know when this started happening. I'm probably the only one who feels it anyway. I can't look up at him without feeling off. When I look, he looks. Then I _can't_ look away. We stare and it ends up just being awkward.

He really isn't that bad, though. I mean to look at. Dark brown skin. He hands me a heavy folder from under his desk. Handsome face. I suddenly wonder how old he is. I stack the folder in a cabinet. Muscular. His body's not half bad either. He's a little too tall though. I could get over that.

…

I tell myself to shut up.

"Put those in the archive. This, in the Library." I am handed another stack of folders and a book.

"Okay," it's dark out. I feel itchy in my soul all over again. We're done for today, but I should make dinner. A stomach growls, and it's defiantly not mine. How exactly did Ansem survive before?

I'm not full, but at least I'm satisfied. I can't say the same for Ansem. I know he's full. He had three helpings. But, dinner was a while ago. I plan on going to bed now.

"Phoebe, come here,"

What I meant was: planning on seeing what he wanted now. _Can I just go to bed? _

"Now,"

No, I can not.

I pivot on my heel and turn from my bedroom door. So, so close. Down to the study I go. I just hope I'm not in trouble for something random. When I walk in Ansem is standing up fiddling with his hair.

"Take that," I missed a stack. I sigh and roll my eyes at the three layers of scrolls and reading materials. Yes sir. I glance at him from my side. He has a hair tie.

Oh!

I go on impulse towards him. "Can I help you with that?"

Ansem slowly hands me the black band and eyes me suspiciously. I don't blame him. I'm starting to become suspicious of myself.

He leans down and I extend my arms over his shoulders to tie his hair into a pony tail. The thick coarse strands slip through the cracks of my fingers as I pull it all neatly in place.

"There,"

"Thank you," he murmurs, but I catch him before he pulls away.

I should lift my hands from his shoulders, but I don't. I should stop staring, but I can't. I feel that itchy awkward feeling again. Ansem's eye brows knit on his head. Yeah, I'm confused, too. What do I want? I don't know either, so I draw a little closer. Maybe I'll finally figure it out.

Urges. I have more urges. I get _that _urge again and it's hard to ignore. It makes me want to...what?

When did we become this close?

Our noses touch. Mine still hurts, but it doesn't hurt enough to pull me out of my trance.

Why isn't he doing anything? What the hell am I doing?

There is no more space left.

I kiss him. Soft, and full on the lips.


	11. I'd Never Considered

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 11: I'd Never Considered

Three long months drag themselves by. Twenty one more to go. She barely marks her internal calendar. It's getting harder and harder to remember; to keep her focus on anything but him. Maleficent has thrown her to a lions den with absolutely no intention of fishing her back out. Though it would seem her beast is passive aggressive in nature, underneath his skin lies his brutality; the will to slaughter and feel no remorse.

She grows more cautious by the day; because she's only one of his new pawns on the board she's yet to decipher herself. When will he grow tired of her? If he does, what exactly would he do? She can only think of the worst. Afraid he'll show her his teeth. He already has in her recent nightmares, _and _in her better dreams.

Knowingly, he purposely gnaws on her. He tastes her flesh and samples her soul. Her torment is delectable. He licks his lips and saves her for desert. He's not done with her yet if he plans on using all of his time. But, he's a very patient man, and she's a peculiar woman.

Stuck deep in a sinister tango they circle another. They come a little closer only to back away. He used to know her hand before she played it. He could predict her changing heart, but as the days die and give birth to a new, he finds her behavior becoming... something he can't possibly understand. Now, at least.

Females are fickle things with the most un-transcribable gestures. The looks, the light touches, the body language, her _chemicals_. Confusing, but interesting all the same.

He pushes the woman aside to focus on his true goal. What he's wanted. What he's always believed...

And it's surprising that she tends to agree. It puts the spark in his simmering eyes when she listens.

It's amazing what three months time can do. Twenty one to go.

* * *

You keep thinking about it even though it happened a long time ago. What exactly did it mean? Such a random occurrence has you so distracted, maybe even obsessed. You failed to ask or question the close contact. How could you? Why would you? Perhaps it's something your pride won't allow. Or maybe it's because affection is something you've never known. Not in this life, or the other. But, oh, the three months have eaten at your non existent conscience.

You experiment in dangerous ways. There are days when you both cross lines. There are others when you yourself break them completely. You proceed in an invasion of that marked space just to see what would happen. It _was_ what you expected, but not any more. It's changed. The only way you can describe it, is in the sense of a magnet effect. You smash in, but it takes much effort to pull away.

Your darkness tangles in loops and mixes making you hot on your insides. What is this? You want to ask, and then you don't. You want to feel it again. You don't mind being greedy.

You're thinking about it again.

* * *

I get lonely sometimes, here all by myself when Ansem leaves. I don't want to admit it, but I get excited when he comes back. Not that he keeps me much company. I need to talk to someone, right? I mean even if it is, well, uncanny when I talk to him. Maybe weirder than it was before. Everything felt as if I was walking on shifting sand since I'd...kissed him. I feel like I should be much more afraid. As if I'm not afraid of him enough now, but I find that I'm drawn to him. I can't quite explain why.

Ansem never said nor did anything when I'd kissed him. Never said anything for months. But he knows, and I know what we're both thinking.

_Why in the world did I do that? _

Why'd he let me?

He's come back today after being gone for at least four weeks. Were he goes I'll never know, but this time he came back covered in blood.

He agrees to at least let me stitch him up. I help him out of his coats and belts so I can see his torso. He doesn't flinch when I clean the cuts and gashes driven deep in his sinewy tissue. He doesn't cringe when I string through a curved surgical needle. A straight expression is engraved onto his squared face, but I can feel it. Ansem is tired.

"Welcome back," I try to remember how to end a stitch. Mamma taught me, along with a lot of other things, but that was far too long ago. I shrug and snip it with a small pair of scissors. Oh well, on to the bandages.

"Where did you go?" I speak carefully as to not sound nosey. I just want to start a conversation. I tuck a roll of gaze up and over his underarm and cover a group of stitches.

"The outskirts of Hallow Bastion," he sighs.

"Fifteen miles east?"

"Yes,"

"Why?"

"It was necessary,"

"You look like you fell off a cliff,"

He snorts.

I try to think of something else to say. I hum in thought and wrap another long strip around his waist and stomach. His skin is warm and sweaty, and his muscles feel good. When I can't say much more I let the study fall silent. I cut off a last bandage and pocket the roll in my bag.

"Done," I use a wet cloth to rub access blood from his smaller cuts, the ones I didn't bother to cover.

He grumbles, and I take it as some sort of reply. He's such a subjective talker. He never wants to unless he starts it.

"Are you hungry?" I wipe red from his hair and comb through tangles with my fingers. He needs a better rub down. I wrinkle my nose. He's got a bloody, dirty smell that covers his own scent.

"No,"

Huge shocker!

"Are you sure?" My eyebrows screw up, and I give him a side ways glance.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He groans and stands up on his feet towering over me. Letting his back bones pop, he walks right out the door. I drag his coat behind. The many buttons and links click as I break into a speed walk.

He is out of my sight for a while, but I see him at the end of the hallway entering his private quarters. There's no warning, and he doesn't shoo me away. I step precariously into the un-lit room and set down his clothes on the edge of his bed. One of his gloves drops to the floor. I bend down to swoop it up. Where did he go?

Ansem breezes in from his bathroom. He has taken off his boots wearing the same black pants I'm accustomed to seeing him wear at rest.

He crosses the room. Hovering over me, he collects his clothes. The glove is taken, too. I shirk involuntarily when the rough surface of his hands glide against mine and encases a few of my fingers.

"Go to bed," he commands.

But I'm not tired. Don't I get a good night or a thank you?

The small of my back is completely occupied and warmed under the span of his palm. I'm being pushed away, but I won't leave without at least some protest. He just got back! I thought I'd go a little more insane with his absence. I'm not meant to be a loner.

"Wait, wait!" I plead latching my hands onto a portion of the door frame. My feet are anchored into the ground.

"Don't try my patience, woman." He pushes me harder. I catch myself on my left foot as I fall out of the door frame. I pout. He doesn't look too amused.

_Obey. _

I see it in his smoldering, glowing eyes.

"Fine," I turn tail. The door shuts behind me. Why so antisocial?

* * *

The next day it's right back to business. I thankfully slip into the routine of following Ansem behind mysterious portals.

I've asked him to teach me to conjure my own portals once. Here is how that went:

Question: Would you teach me?

Answer_: Never_

Another Question: Why?

Another Answer: I don't trust you.

Reply: Well then.

As always, he makes sure I wake up when he tells me to. (I'd go right back to sleep if he didn't) I go on the assumption that today, I just might die. The endless joy.

On the other side, however, I step into warm light. I am utterly shocked. No swirling abyss of bottomless darkness? What have the worlds come to?

I open my eyes to a sun kissed beach with palm like trees bearing yellow fruit floating lazily along with a tropical breeze. Sea shells lay scattered on wooden fishing planks. A soft ocean laps warmly at a damp shoreline.

Ansem stands at that line. His back faces me. He's looking out longingly into the distance. I look, too. In my mind I know I won't see or remember what he does. He stares for a long time. I wait patiently in the background. The tangy breeze breaks into a wind and swings parts of my long hair around my heart shaped face.

"When I'm done, so shall this island end," he turns to me his expression lazy and nonchalant.

I try to understand his husk whisper. I get the feeling he's planning something.

"Watch them,"

"Who?"

He leaves me. I _hate it_ when he does that.

I sit by the trunk of a tree. I tamper with a fallen fruit. It's shaped in the form of a start. I sniff at it. It smells citrusy. That's good enough for me. I put it in my bag.

Laughing? I stiffen up against the smooth bark and sink my fingers into the sand. Running on the docks of this cute little island were cute little children.

No, my weakness!

Well, maybe not as little. They looked no younger than eleven. Not quite kids, not quite teenagers.

Two boys and one girl I note. They look happy, and the only ones here other than me. Watch them? Ansem, you confuse me.

One of the boys with brown hair runs down from a dock, his sandals flapping under his heels kicking up tufts of sand. Both he and the other boy hold wooden swords. The girl with reddish hair watches a good distance away.

But, the one in yellow and blue notices me first. He stops in mid swing of his sword and eyes me nervously. Brown n' Messy stops when he notices that Paranoid didn't swing. It's a chain reaction. Little Princess is friendly enough to come up and bravely say hello.

"Hi," she kneels down into the cool sand and dusts her flowery skirt. She smiles with her mouth and her blue-blue eyes.

"Hi," I return the gesture.

"What brings you here?" Brown n' Messy hops down next to her. He's not too shy either.

"Just sight seeing. Hope I'm not being a bother," I tilt my head.

"No, you're not. Are you coming to say hi Riku?" Brown n' Messy waves down Paranoid who slowly sits in our little circle.

"Hey," He waves.

I smile at him, too.

"I've never seen you before? You from here?" Brownie rests his chin on his knees. Paranoid leans in like he's interested.

"No, I'm not a native. I'm just coming for a quick visit."

"Are...," Paranoid scoots in some more and listens with intensity. "...you from another world?"

"Yes, why'd you ask?"

"I've always wanted to see another world! What world are you from?" I arch am eyebrow at him.

"I'm from Metropolis," I tell him a truth.

"Metropolis?" It glides on the brown head's tongue.

"It's like a modern 40s kind of place if you know what that means. It's a huge city with lots of people. Men and women, and children, too," My eyes become glassy.

Little Princess Ooos. "Like the fancy old cars and fluffy dresses,"

I nod.

"I used to live there, but enough about me. What are you three doing?"

"Oh, I'm Sora, that's Kairi, and this is Riku," I finally get all of their names.

"We just come here to hang out. We live on the larger islands way out there," Riku points to the mass of islands he speaks about.

"Oh, I see," I peer in the pointed direction far across the sea.

"Want to watch us duel?" Sora lifts his wooden sword and I do watch them. Their not half bad and I have nothing else to do but watch them.

Sora glances back at Kairi and I every now and again. Looking for not me, but for Little Princess to watch.

I see.

* * *

When I see another dark corridor it is dark, and the children are long gone. I lay half asleep on the sands of the beach with a sea shell braided in into my hair. I look up expecting to see the moon again. Ansem blocks the view.

I stare at him. He stares at me.

I hope he knows I'm not going to get up. I confirm that he does when he lifts me from the ground and takes me in his arms. How generous of him.

My face is pressed flush into his strong shoulder. My legs dangle over his forearms. One world away he tries to set me down. I'm slightly drunk from sleep. I wrap my arms around his neck to stabilize myself.

Resist. Must resist. He attempts to unlatch my legs.

No, I'm too lazy and tired to walk.

"Let go," he tries to peel me away by pushing my hips and waist.

Noooo, don't make me walk.

"Let. Go," to much touching for him in one day.

I whimper, but I don't loosen my arms. I hear him huff through his nose. Injured man doesn't have the time to fight with me. I won't be forced to walk to my room.

Muhaha, I win this time.

Arms around his neck. Legs twisted around his wait. I have gotten away with _murder_. Our faces are close. Next, I move on to suicidal.

My nose grazes his chin. I'm so very, very tempted. He stops outside my bedroom door frame.

"Happy?" Annoyed, maybe a little angry if he could be.

"Mmm hmm," I think I'll kiss him good night.

He doesn't react at first. I don't expect him to. But, there is an eventual, experimental kiss back. It's soft and short and wet and good. It's good for both of us not knowing how, and maybe a little _forbidden_.

My thank you has been accepted.

**Author's Notes: **

**Long chapter is loooong. I like this one a lot. **

**Revieeew~!**


	12. Heater

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 12: Heater

Another two full weeks of November have faded without my notice. I am busy, engrossed, and distracted. And it would seem, all at once.

I'm so very close. I can feel it. Smell it, taste my one wish not to far from my grasp. I want to know where it is. I need to know, but the books won't show me, and neither do my findings. The frustration fuels my seething, and foul nature. I accommodate by entertaining myself, or I become obsessed with something else before I find myself distracted again.

My side experimentation has dragged on longer than I expected it to. But, I don't think I mind watching the squirming and aching just a bit more. I find myself falsely excited when I can observe another thing gone wrong, but that's what happens when you resist the darkness. How it's done halfway and unconsciously is out of my understanding. Don't take it, and don't leave it? The darkness doesn't operate in such a fashion, yet, as of now, it does. Perhaps it's the gender, or something else that's prolonged such dormant suffering.

I plan on finding out in due time. If only due time would arrive for everything. I'll remind myself not stick my nose in too far. I realize I'm too fascinated to let it be and run its indefinite course. I've gotten _hungry_ for something I'm not supposed to have, or give away myself. The only thing I should want is what has always been eternal. But, I've developed the smallest of physical needs.

It's the man in me that does twisted things making me yearn and crave. The impulses to touch, to feel, to _tamper_ are overwhelming. I often abide by my disciplined self control to prevent myself from doing something unfavorable.

I've thought and this is enough. I'm wasting time. I leverage myself from a leather chair stationed close to my work desk. I sense a visitor will be arriving soon and I'm not one to be a sitting duck.

Fresh rain batters harshly against the metal compounds outside. There is no lightening, therefore there will be no thunder. Still, the down pour leaves the skies dark and baleful. All the more reason for the female to lay idle in her room. I observe her still body, and shake her till she stirs.

"Get up. Someone is coming," she doesn't move as fast as I want her to. I pinch the soft skin of her exposed shoulder. She gives a groan, rubs the newly formed red welt, and lethargically crawls from under her sheets.

"What?" Her voice is grogged heavily from sleeping the afternoon away.

I don't like repeating myself, and I don't.

"Move," I pull on her legs and she falls out of the bed onto the floor. I leave before she stands.

Behind me I can hear the tap of her bare feet against the cold floor. As I had expected, we meet our guest half way.

"Sorry, to pop in unannounced," Maleficent drums her finger nails against the worn surface of her staff. Her head is held high showing a pathetic excuse for confidence. The heartless become agitated at our encounter and sink in inky pools on the ground.

"Why are you here witch?"

"Following up on our arrangement," her eyes dart behind me, and for a split second she's taken back.

"Still alive are you?" Maleficent is no longer speaking to me.

"Yeah, hag," The topic of interest murmurs from my side. Maleficent doesn't hear.

The crow perched on her shoulder screeches loudly. Its sound leaves a long echo. I scowl at her.

"If you have no other business, leave," my patience grows thin. I don't enjoy company.

"I wanted to speak with you privately about our other negotiations," her brittle wall cracks in pieces when ever she twitches. I can smell fear. Her nervousness is carved haggardly into her deceitful face.

"What makes you think you can request me when ever you feel the need? I have no interest in you now,"

"Very well," Maleficent's body slowly dissolves behind folds of green fire. "Oh, and Phoebe,"

"What?" The woman answers from behind me. She's in a half step to walk away. One eye brow is raised obviously interested in whatever else Maleficent has to say.

"Your _mother's_ been looking for you dear," she sneers before dispersing completely.

I squint a suspicious eye. She doesn't come here unless she wants something, or something done. I'll make a round to sniff out any sabotage the witch may have planted.

"Come Phoebe," I have somewhere to be.

Nothing.

"_Come_," my voice grinds on authority.

Still nothing.

I reach to yank on her hair and gain her attention, but something stops me.

Her back faces me; ridged and frozen like ice. A whiff of anxiety laces with the surrounding air. I can hear her breathing low and staggered.

Curious...

What about her mother again?

* * *

Tonight, I don't feel too well. I am _sick _to my stomach. Sick with worry, and regret. I'm reminded just when I begin to forget one of the most important things. I don't know whether or not to believe Maleficent. She lies just like every one else has. But, Mamma…

I made dinner. I even fixed my own plate only to realize I'm not hungry. So here I am sitting on the floor in a corner of Ansem's study nearest to the doors. He said I could stay if I remained quiet. I really haven't talked all day. He also told me not to touch anything. I've only been tempted once or twice.

I prop my chin on my knees and hug my legs. The rain that started yesterday brought in a strong cold front. As a matter of fact everything is cold. The floors are cold. The walls are cold. My room is cold. _I'm cold_. I don't know how Ansem can stand it, but there he sits in his chair with no shirt on, again. I suddenly wonder if he ever gets sick. Probably not, but you never know.

What time is it? Last time I checked it was far past midnight. I would ask, but I'm not supposed to say anything lest I break his 'deep concentration'.

I look up because I get tired of blank floor. Ansem holds that red sketch book in his hands etching something elaborate. From what I can tell it spans the whole entire page. Maybe it's important.

He sighs through his nose and sets it down. He glances at me from over his shoulder. I know what he's going to say before he even says it.

"Go to bed,"

He turns out a lamp with the click of a button and gets out of his chair. Why do I get the feeling that he's not going to retire himself? I suppose I'm something that needs to be kept out of the way. Whatever, I do what he says. Getting up is hard when you've got so much weight on your shoulders. I wouldn't be here if I had listened to Mamma.

I leave and I don't put up a fight like Ansem wants me too. I head one way, and he another with not a much as a glance back.

I return to my room with a violent shiver. I stare sideways at my bed sheets. They're probably not thick enough to keep me warm. I sit on the edge of the mattress and curl up on myself again. I focus on the outside. I can smell the scent of freezing rain seeping through the window seals. Something lurches on my insides and I want to scream. I almost do. I feel so dark. Maybe a little helpless.

"Everything is...ugh," I bury my face under the mass of my hair. I sigh.

Crawling, I pull all of my blankets from their edges. I fold each one and double them up. Yeah, I'm going to sleep _so awesome_ tonight.

No, no I'm not.

I lay under them. I can't feel my toes. Sleep comes when I force it on myself.

* * *

I am done for the night satisfied with my confirmed suspicion. Maleficent left a trail behind. I crush the unknown device in the palm of my hand and discard it on the floor. Wretched traitor. It's a good thing I'm careful with those I associate with... more or less.

At two in the morning, the hallway is chilled, but I don't feel it anymore.

Hmmm?

A figure stands still only a few feet down. This is not a first. I've noted that she's started to sleep walk in the darkness, and stop in mysterious places leaving me to return her to her room. I'll do something different this time.

She's shaking, and I know why. It seems I just can't stop myself from being interested. I do what I normally won't do.

* * *

Milliseconds of snapping-my-eyes- open terror. I get that petrifying feeling of falling down deep in my stomach.

Where am I now?

I wobble in a disoriented fashion. Something grabs my arm, or is this just the wall again? Rating? A chest? A door? There's not enough light to see, or enough alertness to focus. I'm being consumed, and led. You know what? I'm tired.

Do I even feel like running the other way? I'm just so accustomed to letting the force take me in each every detection it wants, so I let it.

I don't feel that worried anyway.

* * *

I don't think I'm doing a good thing, but neither is it bad. The opportunity is too great to pass up. Besides, we've been here before.

I lead her to my room and she follows like a good girl. When I lay the bed creaks under the weight of another shifting body. Crawling on her hands and knees she settles on the other side. Then it's still.

But, she's still shivering, and I don't like it. For the sake of peace I wrap an arm around her shoulders.

It stops.

* * *

If I was brave I'd turn around. I'm not, so I won't do that. Someone is in the bed with me. Or am I in the bed with them? Either way, we are both in the bed at the same time, and I'm way too scared to look and see who I already know is there.

I stare at the pale patches of light scattered on the floor. Rain still attacks all that's unprotected outside. When it rains in Hollow Bastion (which doesn't happen often), it pours with vengeance. I move in millimeters.

I stifle a cough and sink my head into the fluffy sheets. What am I lying on?

A large russet arm.

What's laying on me?

We are going to go with a rock because that's what half of his body feels like. Ansem's other arm is clamped tight around my waist spooning us together. I wiggle a little bit. My leg is lodged high between his. I don't even want to tell you what I think I might feel there. I attempt to move from under him. His chin twitches above my head and I stop. Me getting up and running away isn't going to work, or happen. I'm going to be stuck here for a while.

At least I'm not completely uncomfortable, and it's _warm_…


	13. Far Too Long

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 13: Far Too Long

I realize I had fallen back asleep when my eyes open again. I'd acquired a new position in that amount of time. I'm not sure how long that was, but based on the increased amount of light glinting across the floor, it was more than an hour.

We're facing each other now; my cheek pressed into the space where his chest meets his stomach. My hand rests on the firm abs shaping his belly. The ridged surface moves in a soft, rhythmic up and down whenever he breathes. I wriggle to regain some comfort, and re-adjust my limbs. Ansem's arm is draped lazily over my waist and one of my legs is still stuck tightly between both of his. I absently finger one of his faint stitching scars.

Gurgle. It's his stomach, not mine. I take a weary peek from over the tucked folds of black sheets to see his face. He's awake, but barely; stuck on the brink of conscious and unconsciousness.

Today is going to be very a slow day. I can tell by the nausea in my throat and the frightened, aching, worrying feeling in my heart. Anxiety attacks lurk right around the corner. I press on.

I open my mouth to ask him a question (if he's alert enough). Nothing comes out because I don't know how to ask it. I inquire to myself why we do these intimate things. Like our few kisses, when the time passes, or when he gets up, it will be as if our little sleep-in never happened. At least I know I'll still be thinking about it; wanting to feel it again.

He turns over releasing an arm keeping me prisoner. He mumbles something I can't understand. With my free limb I rub the center dip in his back. If he doesn't start the day off, I will. He growls in deep irritation.

Now he knows how I feel. The least he could do was not complain.

"H-hey," I rub a bit harder. He growls louder before turning over back facing the mattress, and staring at me dead in my face. All eyes open and somewhat alert, he gives me an annoyed, lazy expression.

"Shouldn't we get up?" Ambiguously I let the side of my face settle near his underarm, a hand back on his stomach.

"Hmmm," he breathes inwardly. I can feel it rumble from his chest.

"Ansem?"

"You don't feel well," he suddenly says. That isn't a question. He reaches over a thick arm to pinch my nose.

"What makes you think that," I instinctively swat his hand away. He snags my face dodging my defense.

"Excuse me dear if I sound intrusive, but you where rather reserved yesterday. So tell me. What was it? Something about your mother?" He applies pressure to the bridge of my nose twisting it slightly. I wince and wrap my fingers around his wrist. My nose is still sore from before.

He presses a little harder when I don't say anything. Oh, I didn't have a choice.

"My- you heard what she said. My mother is looking for me,"

"And?" He opens his heavy thighs releasing my trapped leg. With one hand still placed firmly on my nose, he shifts to hover over me. He stares, his body directly above mine.

"I'm not sure whether to believe that," I turn away and cover my face with my hands. "I mean... well I-I," I choke on my words and force back a hic; force back a cry. Ansem's the last person is want to cry in front of.

He tares my palms away clasping my wrists in his large hot hands. Squinting sideways he holds his head in a curious, devious tilt. His dangling hair tickles my shoulders and chest.

"I...I don't know how I should feel. So, no. No, I don't feel too well in all meaning of the phrase," my throat closes into a hot burn making it hard to breath.

"Why?" He's analyzing my emotion through those smoldering eyes.

"It's a long story I could have avoided,"

"Avoided? Hesitate to beat around the bush. I want a better answer,"

"I don't think its _any_ if your business,"

"I get the notion that it's all a part of why your stuck here slaving with demons," spot on. I press my mouth into a straight line.

He grins showing his teeth at my silence. "But, if you don't think it's my business I won't force the subject further,"

I nod. The rims of my eyes start to sting.

* * *

I was sent through another trusty dark corridor, but this time there wasn't any mystery. I was told where I was to go. Wonderland seems like it was years ago rather than a few months.

It's as weird and unusual as ever, and as I walked through the various doors, I was greeted with breezes of nostalgia and familiarity. I smirked sideways at the ring master get up I wore before, and tipped my top hat before my embark into deeper parts of the world. I like Wonderland, a lot. I think it's the forest, or the colors, or maybe it just reminds me if my wildest dreams.

Let's see. What did I do while I was there? I was ordered to retrieve a book while Ansem took a detour somewhere else. Other than having to vine swing a whip around a heartless' neck and suffocate it to its death, it was not as treacherous as expected. The book he wanted grew from a tree. I'd rather not go over the whole jabberwocky labyrinth. It was long and as confusing _as hell_ to locate that jar before.

That jar.

I remember, and then again I don't.  
What did Ansem ever do with that thing? I found it, handed it over, and then it was gone and out of sight.

I muse over it when I return to Hollow Bastion. I wonder where he put it. I snoop around to confirm if he is back or not. No sign of Big n' bad. I sigh and close my eyes before walking into his study. I'm so very tired. But, that won't stop me. I never got to see what was inside.

The big ass book is chucked into his office chair. I look around for a bit slowly, carefully inching objects and cabinets out of place to check behind them. No jar. I put everything exactly where it was. Puffing out another sigh I eye a bottom locked cabinet under the top of his desk and to the side. Piece of cake. I unwind a hair pin from the side of my bangs and bend down to pick the lock. Viola!

I am _dastardly_.

The container opens with a loud clank. What do you know? It's the jar. Before taking it out of place, I look to a window. It's already getting dark. I better make this quick. On my knees I crouch to the floor close to the desk and set the jar's asymmetric bottom upright. It couldn't be too bad. I precariously tip open the lid and peak inside. It's dark, and murky. A thick liquid sloshes against the inner ceramic sides.

I take a small whiff. An uncontrollable shiver racks my whole body as soon as my nostrils are engulfed with the sugar sweet scent. The top is slammed on and before I have a chance to knock it over. I heave a pained groan-shriek that tares my insides. My eyes roll to the back of my head. It's an unbearable pain that I wasn't expecting.

Trying to gain some self control I shove the jar back in the cabinet, and slam the door closed.

Bad idea.

_Bad idea._

* * *

You sense what they can. Agony of the heart attracts heartless like sugar does to ants. You come to the source of that delicious suffering.

Ah, due time has come at its own price. The heartless lurk and prey about watching her twist and turn. Watch her fight her fate. You stare with them slightly amused. She amuses you greatly. She screams and it shoots hot arrows towards your belly. You like that. It arouses you at your core and stirs something you've never named.

"I can make it stop," you're lifting her from her bed. Cupping her face and stretching her neck from her body, you let the sheets fall from her sweat slicked skin. "You've been hurting for so long dear. I can make it go away. The darkness can," you whisper huskily in her ear.

Her body heaves and she's groaning again. It's so good you almost take your offer back.

"Make it stop, it hurts...," breathless. In so much pain. _All pain._ Every kind she could feel. Desire: you can feel it leaving her cold and shivering all over again. You'd heat her up. You'd make her warm again.

"Stop fighting the darkness, Phoebe. Stop making it hurt," she is crying from those pretty brown eyes.

"Ansem!" She panicking, clawing at your wrists. Trying to resist the help you know she needs.

"Embrace the darkness and give into me," your lips ghost over her cheeks.

"You'll make it stop?" She's clutching your shoulders. Holding you so close because you are the only one keeping her from falling through the floor.

"Yes," you won't cross your fingers for her. So willing. It pleases you deeply.

"Then I give in," you drag her to her wobbly feet towards your bedroom.

"I'll make you mine,"

* * *

He wants to rip her heart out right before her eyes and...

Devour it.

But he stops himself, and keeps to his word watching her fall numb with her pain.

"What do you want most?" Her voice is hard to find.

"You must know by now. Nothing good," he's running a fingertip along her jaw line. "What do you want most? Do you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"Then tell me you darkness desire. You can have it,"

"You,"

He found that unexpected.

**Authors Notes: **

**So. Sleepy. **

**I can't quite describe this chapter. It's different than the others. Oh well, I was just worried about the flow. There's more to come! **


	14. So Perfect

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 14: So Perfect

The moment she gives up the light in her heart, is the moment she gets what she never knew she wanted.

I sigh faintly and bring my legs up to my chest. They were dangling over the edge of Ansem's bed, but my feet don't touch the floor and that eventually annoyed me. Besides, at the moment, watching Ansem is a little more interesting than looking at my feet.

He's hanging by his thick arms on one of the metal planks built high in the ceiling. Toned muscles ripple, flex, and relax under his skin when he pulls into a perfect chin-up. He grunts from exertion every now and again and breathes to suck in his stomach, and curl in his legs. Light beads of shimmering sweat roll down his forehead, down the curve of his neck, over his chest, and down his abdomen.

It's all very _appetizing_.

I really wasn't counting, but I can tell he's done more than enough. Ansem pulls himself up one final time and lets himself fall feet first, with a heavy _thump_ to the carpet floor. Our eyes lock for only few seconds as he wipes the moisture from his face and neck using a towel. When done, he throws the towel to me, and I barely catch it.

"Eww," I make a false disgusted face and fold it neatly on my lap.

I expect him to take a shower, so I start to leave. I pause when I see him fall into a push-up back on the carpet floor. Oh, okay. I wait. I haven't annoyed him in a while anyway. I set the towel where I was sitting and hover deviously around him.

"Traditional exercise?"

He grunts and gazes up at me; looking at the floor as he goes down, and up as he rises.

"That's admirable," I attempt to sit on his back. Ansem shifts to one arm and immediately swats me away. I try again.

"Stop," he reaches behind himself and pushes me off onto the floor. One more time. I hop on, straddling his back and swat back whenever he tries to remove me. I tightly coil my legs around his waist and my arms around his chest. I press my face into his moving shoulder blades. He growls, but I've won. Arms twitching slightly over the extra weight, he continues his hefty pace.

"Are you leaving today?" I rub his stomach taking in his earthy scent.

"Yes," Down.

"And me?" Up.

"To the islands," Down.

"To watch them? What about making a corridor?" Up.

"Figure it out. I'm sure you'd be able to conjure one on your own," Down.

"How?" I stroke his sides letting my fingers glide along the muscles near his underarms. Up.

"You're tied to the darkness. A door will always open if you need it," he stops.

"You said you'd never teach me," I pout.

"I did, and I'm sticking to that." He lowers himself until he's laying flat on his tummy and elbows. "Now, off," he rolls over.

"Wait!" I shriek as I am suddenly trapped under the weight of his back. "You're too heavy to roll on top of people!"

"Shame you don't hold me in any consideration. You sat on my back,"

"Yeah, but I'm not heavy,"

"Oh, is that what you think?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing,"

* * *

Sitting against the bark of the tree she fiddles with a sea shell removed and untwined from her hair several nights ago. The air is still cool and breezy as she remembers it. The sea rushes nearby.

"Hey there Little Princess," she makes room for another observer in the island's soft sands.

"Hi,"

"What are you guys doing?"

"Picking Paopu Fruit," The princess smiles her same blue-blue smile and swings her picking basket around her elbow.

"Paopu Fruit?"

"They're the star shaped fruit hanging from those trees," Kairi points and they both look up.

"Oh! That's what those things are called. I had one but a duck bargained it from me. He was a real scrooge," Phoebe continues to look thoughtfully. They both giggle.

"People say they are really special. Sora, Riku, and I are picking some for our friends and family. Here have one," she hands over the biggest one she can find, and dusts the sand off its golden yellow surface.

"Thanks, I'll enjoy it."

When night falls she's sure to take one last look. Slowly, carefully she lifts her arm to the open air. She flicks her wrist upwards and focuses on where she really wants to go. A flood of darkness leaks from her heart fueling the spark for a toiling corridor.

"Tied to the darkness, eh?"

So far accepting the recent circumstances haven't been so difficult. Maybe she even likes it this way. It feels like freedom, and...Not at all.

She knows what and _who_ she belongs to.

* * *

When I return to Hollow Bastion fortress it feels weird. Like an out of the ordinary eerie feeling.  
I tread a little slower today. I check quietly behind doors and places I know I'd find him.

"He must not be here yet," I turn around to walk back again past the study and to my room. I stop dead in my tracks before I'm even 1/4th the way there. Something doesn't feel right.

I crouch down in stealth using the night and dark shadows on the walls to disguise me. I soundlessly summon my microphone whip gripping it tightly in my right hand. I lurk a bit closer seeing perfectly in the dark.

A man. He glides from the direction of the study, turns, and looks right at me.

"Ansem?" I squint. So very similar.

"Not quite," I blink and miss him leave.

I think I know that voice.

* * *

"He was here," she speaks as soon as he comes into view. Nervously she leans down to remove a couple of pan baked biscuits. She's not quite sure how he'll react. She shifts as the kitchen grows more and more silent.

"When?" He's already changed into more comfortable clothes his coat and gloves discarded in his room. His voice is steady, but she speaks carefully always remembering to fear.

"When I returned from the islands, he was exiting your study." She bites her lips and turns off the pilot light. The biscuits are dumped on to a platter on the kitchen island.

"I will deal with that myself," she can feel him seething. He changes the subject.

"How old are they?" He moves closer looking high over her shoulder as she stirs a medium bowl of honey and syrup.

"No older than twelve,"

"And...the boy. What does he hold?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Then it's not yet time,"

She shrugs her shoulders. Wearily, she takes one flake y white biscuit from the bunch, tares it in half, and dips it in to the thick mixture in the bowl.

"Say ahh," He opens his mouth expectantly, and she pops the treat in. "Is it good?"

He hums an approval and takes one for himself.

"I also have this if you want a piece," from the refrigerator she removes a plate of a chopped yellow fruit. "I haven't tried it yet,"

She hands him a slice, and takes one for herself. He says nothing in the content feeling of just eating.

"It kind of tastes like pineapple,"

They share it, and soon it's all gone.

* * *

"Since when were you this lenient?" You turn to the speaker and venom drips from your eyes. You felt him approach long before he addressed you.

"I thought I told you to tend to your own business?" You snap and growl.

"My apologies if I felt the need to drop in," his lifeless chuckle bounces lowly of the metal walls of a deeper hallway. He leans against a door frame and crosses his arms.

"You don't feel,"

"Neither do you,"

"What do you want? I already told you my final answer," Collaboration was out of the question.

"Nothing," You smell a lie.

"Then why do you keep coming here? You left this world behind. You founded your own domain,"

"I'm only interested. Where is she now?"

You scowl. You know what he's getting at.

"Lying in your bed is she? It's interesting that she's so open to a being like you. When are you going to steal her heart? What's the purpose?"

"You ever heard of a guilty pleasure?" You retort. "But, I don't feel guilty. I'll do what I please,"

"So you're keeping her to yourself. Has she surrendered to you already?"

"As far as I'm concerned she was given to me, and I plan on keeping her while she lasts,"

"So says the Heartless,"

"Leave Nobody,"

"Have it your way. But, I'll be back," he leaves.

**Author's Notes: **

**Heh, lots of dialogue. But, between who? C;**

**I think I will be incorporating other Avenged Sevenfold song titles, lyrics, and theme just so I don't run out of fitting chapter names. If you haven't I suggest you look up the name of this fanfic and listen. C; **

**It's kind of a song fic, and then again no~ **

**More is to come! R&R **


	15. HAhahaha

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 15: HAhahaha

There is screaming again. Screams in the pitch, scale, and octave that can only be tuned into her sleep. Desperate souls and deranged minds call out and vibrate in the down to dark; trapped in a picture-less nightmare. Some almost seem like laughs, or a fortune of the future telling of cackling torture and blood lust. It is darkness, and in this dream, it is _everywhere_.

"Isn't it marvelous, dear?"

"Yeah, sure,"

The black flood peels back the outline of skyscrapers vast, familiar metroplexes that could only be found in her not-so-far past. The west side of the city, it screams with hurting men losing their sanity to ripped off pieces of night shadows; twitching and greedy for the locks and glue of souls. It shrieks that Metropolis will be tainted. She can merely stand in the background.

Hands crawling, scrapping, clawing. Charcoal black hands again grabbing at her ankles, arms, shoulders leaving stains and marks. She can't breathe.

* * *

She's shivering, and you don't like it.

You squeeze her stomach catching the screech you already felt bubbling to the surface. Her panting is loud, and she twitches ever so slightly. Her nails dig into your guarding arm; the one keeping her from rolling off the edge. Your shifting weight moves the bed as you lean more against her.

"Nightmares?"

"Yes," her voice is muffled by a mass of bed sheet between you.

"You'll get used to them," you tighten the arm around her stomach again, spooning you both close together. Her head lies on your shoulder. She whimpers a sigh. She won't close her eyes.

"Go back to sleep,"

"I can't," turning over; she adjusts herself and faces you looking you in your half lidded eyes. "I'm afraid,"

"What is there to be afraid of?" You press your hand into the small of her back.

"I don't know,"

"You'll get used to your dark heart, Phoebe. Give it time," it is quiet for a short while.

"Ansem?" She mumbles.

"Hmm?" You frown.

"Why me?" How dramatic of her. She's absent mindedly rubbing your stomach and sides. It feels good.

"I don't know," really, you don't.

"Ansem?"

"Enough, go back to sleep," you close your eyes and demand that she do the same.

"You're never fully asleep," she turns over again facing away.

"True,"

"Why?"

"I'm a heartless. Conclude the rest. Now, stop asking questions and go back to sleep," you clasp your arm under her chin, angling her head, and making it uncomfortable to talk.

"Then what do you do when you aren't asleep, or whatever? Some times you sleep and sometimes you don't at all" She gags, and pries her hands in the crease of your elbow, tucking in her nose.

"I wait, or I listen,"

"What do you hear?"

"Usually, your breathing. It was erratic by the way,"

She finally closes her eyes. "Yeah, you can hear my nightmares,"

"The screaming or do you mean something else?"

She gasps peering at you with those glassy brown eyes. It's a mix of shock and fear at what she thinks you might know. But, you know that you know.

"Yes," she's whispering.

"You'll get used to that, too."

* * *

"I'm so tired of crap getting in my way," Heartless like to over congregate on Fridays, too. Go figure.

What happened to me being undetected? They aren't really attacking, but they're threatening to. Neoshadows (Neoshadi?) block doors. Bad Dogs keep hitting the sides of my legs, and there is something down near the library that sounds large and lethal. I'm not going over there. You couldn't pay me.

"Can I just go to the Archives? Please?" Something springs and grazes my face.

Bump this.

Angry, I crack the whip. "Move the hell out of my way!"

I was expecting the normally high pitched thunder and light purple tint of a perfectly damaging sound wave. But, this wave is different. It's a darker shade; thicker. The sound wave I crack has _base_; so hard I can feel it in my chest. It makes the walls rumble like a seismic quake splitting heartless in two, and erasing them from existence. My teeth chatter. I almost drop my weapon. That was _power_.

"Okay, alright," I reset my _Motivation _in my hand rolling it between my palm and fingers. I dash to the right of a shadow and pop the cord of the whip again creating the same deadly result. A claw at my side. I sling back hand striking like a dark python.

A Bad Dog barks, and then jumps for my arm at the same time a Neoshadow darts for my leg. I sling for the shadow. It bursts and disperses from sight. The Bad Dog painfully grazes my shoulder.

"I bet your the one who hit me in my face," I crack-whip a fira and watch it _burn_.

No more heartless. No more road block.

"I could get used to this," I dust myself off and fix my tuxedo blouse.

Turning my head away from the archive door I peer at the library. Hmmm. Nope. Still not going down there.

Inside the Archives room I start my search for yet another file. Ansem has been looking through the book I got (stole really) from Wonderland. He must have reached some conclusion. Pacing back and forth and long lists of items is always a sign of a break through. I usually try to avoid him because I never feel like fetching, but when has that ever worked?

"Okay, what did he want?" I try to recall from memory.

"WORLDS", and "HEART MECHANICS", I think?

The smell in the filing room isn't as bad as last time. I don't have to breathe through my mouth. I'll have to block of those broken water pipes sooner or later. I slam back a couple of file drawers and exit, heading for Ansem's study. When I hand them over he adds them to the hot mess of papers already on his desk.

"I always thought you'd be more organized," I comment, but he doesn't notice it. I curl myself up in his office chair and wait for more orders. He's not using his chair anyway. He's pacing the room. All kinds of written and typed documents occupy his hands. I drag the leather book from Wonderland from his desk. I ignore the stuff that falls to the floor around it. I'll pick it up later.

"Openings?" I read the title. I didn't bother to read it before. A book that instructs on opening things. Creative title. I like it.

Ansem throws "WORLDS" file to my side and it lands messily on a desk. "Their hearts...I need their hearts to forge the lock,"

"Eh?" I have no idea what he's talking about.

"But I need the key to unlock the lock to open the door,"

That would be logical. That comment was in my mind.

"Why don't you just pick the lock? I would. I'd be too lazy to look around for a key," that comment was out loud.

He stops his rambling and stares at me. "Actually, that's not a bad idea,"

"I know it's not," I swing around once. Oh, this chair swivels!

"But, I can't. Not yet. I suppose I'll play the waiting game. I still require the key to appear,"

"Why would you still need the _key_ to _pick _a lock?" I think we might be thinking about two different subjects.

"This lock and key is...an exception,"

I assume he's satisfied with himself. He leers at me, swoops me up, sits down, and sets me on his lap. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and rest my head under his neck.

"Can I go to sleep now?" I'm really tired.

"No, your hobby will have to wait until later this evening,"

Haha, very funny. I roll my eyes.

"What exactly are you looking for behind this 'door'?" I neglected to ask him.

"The world's-all worlds'- greatest source of darkness," he says it like someone who's sharing their dreams.

"Go on," I continue to listen.

"The inter-connected universe about us is built upon darkness, even light spawned from the dark," he's rubbing his thumb along parts of my spine. He looks at me expectantly, almost searching for my reply.

"That sounds right. It's Dark before it's light. Babies are born from the dark of the womb. So, what does this mean?" I sit up slightly and look him in his eyes.

"The heart is no different, and neither are the worlds," using his legs he pulls the chair close to the edge of the office desk and picks up his sketch book from under several other documents. He strictly turns to one page.

"So is that what you really want?"

"More than anything, dear. And what of you? Don't you want it with me?" He hands me the book and I hold it open to the page he'd turned to.

"I understand, but I honestly don't care. We all have dreams, right," my finger tips dust lightly over the sheet of sketch pad. An intricately woven weapon-a key- covers almost every white space. Was this what was so important? It looks wicked and twisted and ornate like it was held by a master. I gaze at the dusty, pale gray-black-blue colors.

He chuckles. "A reply only you could give,"

"Hmm, I see why you have to wait to pick the lock. Could I see more?" I ask him counting his already used pages at their worn edges.

"There's nothing there that you haven't already seen," he takes it from and slides it into a cubby space.

"Oh, so you caught that," he knows even more than I take him for.

"Of course silly woman,"

* * *

It's a ritual now, she realizes as she sits contently at the edge of his bed. The brush she sweeps through her hair strengthens out the wet tangles of her shower- damp hair. Another day, another musing. He sits next to her watching her braid her hair and straighten out her nightgown.

There is so much sudden interest in her lips and skin. He leans in to rub her upper arms. She has smelled so good lately. He just quiet fain temptation. Besides, he hasn't felt it in so long.

"Good night," she sighs puffing out her cheeks, and reaches for the lamp light.

Good night? Not yet.

She turns out the light, but he catches her before she lies down next to him. He's holding her under her arms and around her back.

"What?"

"Hold still,"

The movement is slow and paced as he brings them even closer together inch, by inch. When there, he brushes his lips cautiously against hers not sure of what to feel, and she responds by resting her hands on his chest. She presses in meeting him halfway, and he pushes in harder encouraged by her feedback.

He feels so hungry and demanding. _So good_. She sighs into him running her fingers through his coarse hair. He runs his tongue along her soft, moist bottom lip, and their teeth click. He groans deeply making her laugh because the vibration tickles. He can feel her smiling against him.

Greedily, he kisses her more; harder, more ferociously till their both panting. Satisfaction. He leaves her lips so she can breathe. He presses his himself into the side of her neck under her ear.

"Good night," the vibration there makes her skin tingle.

"You're really going to sleep," she appears so flustered.

"True,"


	16. Don't Cry

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 16: Don't Cry

He's taken her with him this time; on those journeys where he never tells were he's going, when he'll be back...

_Or what he does while he's there. _

"Stay. You'll move when I tell you to," he told her two days earlier that it was almost time. For what? Maybe she'd finally get to see what his pacing amounted to.

Shocked. Appalled. Taken back. Those aren't the words to describe what she feels as she has to watch in the background. The screaming is almost unbearable.

_Almost..._

"Why?" Is her only question. The burning smell in the air makes her eyes water.

"Collecting hearts," is his only answer. Business as usual.

This world, soon to be forgotten, is overwhelmed with heartless; demons sucking every heart beat out of every living thing innocent and wicked alike. Women, men, children trashed and scattered. She plants herself on the ledge of a skyscraper and just watches, because she can't do anything else. She doesn't want to. This world, whatever it may have been, is slowly fading away; losing to the endless dark. The sun tucks behind a purple haze horizon never to rise again. The cries grow even louder when the lights go out.

He's at the core. The grand master of destruction directs ...with a _smile_.

It's scary. Moisture prickles at the edges of her eyes, a burning at the back of her throat.

"I'm done here,"

She silently follows behind him. There's nothing to say.

It's added to her nightmares. The blood bold screaming. She hopes, _begs_ she'll get used to that soon.

* * *

"Why did you bring me?" She curls up in a library chair wrapping a blanket around herself.

"I wanted you to know," he's organizing books. He'll leave again soon.

"And that was your way of giving me an insider?" she tries to keep herself from sounding upset.

He sighs snickering deeply. The stack of books is sat down at a table. He walks till he's looming over; his hands gripping both arms of the chair.

"When I asked you your darkest desire, you told me what you wanted, correct?"

"Correct," she won't look him in his eyes. She's turned away.

"You wanted me,"

"Yes,"

"Then shouldn't you see all of me?"

"Yes," she hicks, and bits her lip.

"So, do you still do?"

"Yes, Ansem, I still do,"

"Then you know what I am, what I want, and what I'll do to get it,"

"Yes,"

"Cheer up, dear. You're apart of something grand."

* * *

Ansem left again. I suspect he'll be back much, much later tonight.

I sit in my room by myself on the floor with a blanket mostly thinking to myself. I haven't sat here in this room for a while. I'm bothered. I have a right to be bothered, and a good reason too, but I really don't want to feel this way. I want it out of my mind. I don't want to think about it anymore.

But, deep in my heart I know what I want is wicked. I'm okay with that. I guess.

I know what he is. I know what he wants. I know he's not afraid to take drastic measures because he doesn't feel fear.

I need to talk to someone other than myself.

I lay my back down and straighten out my knees on the carpet. It's cold. I wrap the blanket tighter around me. I stare at the ceiling panels, and then down to the floor.

"What's that?" There is a un- identifiable object lain under my bed.

I crawl over to it and pull it from out of the shadows. A black book. I had forgotten about the encyclopedia! I'd kept volume 13 this whole time? Though, I don't recall putting it here. It should be on the nightstand, not under my bed. Putting the thought aside, I open it to a marker.

"A note?" A black piece of paper is wedged neatly in the middle. I didn't put this here either. I open it, awaken my keen sense of curiosity, and read.

**_Don't forget why you're here. Go. It may be your only chance._**

It's written in perfect handwriting. I put it back and snap the book closed. My mouth falls slightly agape. I clutch my shoulder.

"I need to talk to my mother,"

But I'm going to have to go home.

* * *

Rain bores down in cold pelts on the other side of a dark corridor. The chilled moisture raises Goosebumps on her skin and soaks through her clothes. She looks out to the familiar neon lights of the streets. Citizens scurry off to dinners or the bright metallic roads filled with glowing panels of lights. Men in suits are going home after a long day of work, and women herd their children indoors.

This is Metropolis. This is home.

Down the neon valley she walks counting the avenues and boulevards. She remembers when she used to dance in these very streets. When she danced in the rain; in the thunder and lightening. Now, she chooses to walk along with all the other pedestrians clad in their umbrellas and android assistants.

A bright line in the pavement glows and directs towards a kiosk. She's familiar with it. Touch the screen and shift the view to see where you're going, but she already knows. A man in a fedora waits to use it after her, so she moves out of the way.

Central way. She smiles at the high skyscrapers up above advertising in holograms. Pretty women with 1940s faces selling their 1940s products, and some of them modern. Anyone that visits this world always remembers to stop and marvel at the mix of the very old and very new.

The bright lights and crowds of drenched people fade away into a residential apartment complex. Up the stairs and down the straight way, she stops in front of door 57821 where she prays her mother will still be there.

A deep breath is taken, and held as she knocks.

No answer.

She knocks again.

Nothing.

She panics. The third knock is frantic.

"Who is it?" An older feminine voice is muffled behind the door.

"It's...it's me,"

A row of locks and chains are unlatched at a hurried pace. The door flies open. "Phoebe?"

"Hey, Mamma, it's me,"

* * *

She hugs me. A long hard hug. The type of hug you give when someone you haven't seen in almost forever comes home.

"Have you been worried?"

"Of course, baby! Come inside you're all wet," she holds my face in her hands moving strands of my wet hair. Kisses litter my cheeks and forehead as she shuffles me inside.

"I never thought I'd see you again! Here, here, dry up. Baby, you need some clothes?" She moves like the busy body she is gathering towels and looking through cabinets. I sit on the floor on a low-ground stool in the living room.

"I could say the same. No, Mamma, I don't need any clothes," I sniff pulling at one of my favorite strands of hair and twist it around my fingers.

"You sure? Baby, you're soaking," she takes her robe off, wraps it around my shoulders, and kneels next to me. A fluffy towel is rubbed onto my head and skin. She pays close attention to my ears and wipes thoroughly on my neck and arms.

"Yes, Mamma, I'm sure," I shiver.

"I thought they got you, too. I looked everywhere, me and your father," her voice quivers and she rubs a little harder.

"Daddy, too?"

"Daddy, too," she hums giving me a small smile showing her laugh lines and front teeth. To describe her in short, she's an older version of me. Lighter skinned, and plumper.

"What about you and Daddy? Are you alright?"

"We're as fine as we can be. You know how this place is. It never sleeps even if you want it. But, you, where did you run off to?"

"No where Mamma," I lie just a little.

"You...still owe Maleficent?"

I nod my head.

"What is she making you do? Are you hurt?" Mamma holds my hands tight. She's sad in her dark brown eyes. The edges of her mouth quiver like she'll cry.

"She didn't have a use for me so she handed me to...someone else to pay off my dept,"

"Listen Phoebe, I've told you what would happen if you kept cutting corners, and-,"

"I know, Mamma. I'm sorry," I cut her off. "I came here to say I was sorry. I'm sorry for everything," my throat closes and the very back of my tongue stings hot. I want to cry with her.

"Phoebe?" I know his deep voice just as well as my mother's.

"Hey Daddy," he's emerged from a back room a mug of coffee in his brown hand. He almost drops it.

"Baby girl? We've been looking everywhere for you," I hug him tight the minute he joins my mother on the floor. His hug is heavy and deep like himself.

"I know. I still have your bow tie," I pull on its edges and bring it to his attention. Another sad smile.

"You have to stay," Mamma's begging clenching my hand tight.

"I can't stay. I have to go," I stand up and teeter towards the apartment door.

"Wait, wait! How will I know if I'll ever see you again? We can work something out," My mother's running her hands through her graying hair. Daddy holds her shoulders.

"No, Mamma, I have to go."

"But,"

"I'll be back. I promise, okay? Please don't worry," I wait for my father to open the door. He's always let me go.

"Don't come back pregnant!" Mamma's exaggerating again.

Daddy chuckles. "Whatever you may have gotten yourself into this time, be safe," he hugs me one last time. My cheek rubs past the stubble on his chin.

"Yes sir,"

* * *

Home is where the heart is. Or, so they say. What if you don't know where your heart lies? What if you deny that you do?

The darkened hallways of Hallow Bastion are quiet save for a heartless scratching behind the wall every now and again. She wobbles on her bare feet having taken off her heels. Since her trek back she's been in the rain again. Water drips from her clothes and skin, and into large puddles on the floor. She sighs her room isn't too far away. She can lie down and pretend she'd been there the whole day.

Stop. Stop! At the back of her mind.

She turns around.

Glowing eyes.

"Who told you you could leave?" His livid voice is louder than the normal monotone.

"Ansem, I-I..." she can't get anything out. He's scaring her.

"You what? I tell you when you have permission to leave my domain," he reaches out, and she winces covering her nose in an anticipation of immense pain.

Her hand is knocked effortlessly out of the way, and the soft of her nose is twisted between his fingers. She screams.

"Where did you go? Hmmm?" He twists an answer from her pulling upwards.

"I went to see my mother," she screeches as hot tears roll from the sides of her tired eyes. "I didn't go anywhere else,"

He let's her go boring down on her with his eyes as she falls to her knees on the floor. He cocks his head to the side and watches her cry. A hard cry that leaves her with hic-ups and low on air. She's hiding her face in her hands and hair.

"Don't make me hurt you, Phoebe," he drags her from the ground by her waist carrying her in his arms. He tilts her chin up with his thumb and index finger. "You know what you did wrong?" He kisses the center of her face, right on the bridge of her nose.

She whimpers and nods. The tips of their noses rub together as he tilts her chin away.

He sets her down in his bedroom grabbing the back of her neck and pinching as the last dose of her retribution.

"Take off your clothes," he taps her forehead. She starts slowly, carefully trying to read his stone expression.

She hands him her wet garments and he throws them to a hamper in the bathroom. The air he creates cools the water on her skin, making her cold again. Awkwardly standing in the center of his bedroom, with only her underwear to cover her, she attempts to dry at least some of her hair. Her fingers rake through pulling out a few loose strands.

"Come to bed," he beckons her as he throws off his undercoat and folds it away to a drawer. He kicks off his boots as he sits on the edge of the bed.

She folds her arms close tucking her hands under her underarms. She crawls next to him taking her time twitching from the cold, from pain, or from nervousness.

She can hear the fabric of his pants rustle as her shifts over to lie on top of her. She turns to face him, and he wraps and arm around her bare waist and pulls the bed sheet up to her quivering shoulders.

"Stop shaking," she's pressed close against his neck. The feel of bare stomach on bare stomach is foreign. They push as they both breathe in and out. He gives her timid slow kisses to her lips and jaw, and she accepts them wiping her tears away.

"Better?" He breathes between a deepened kiss.

"Yeah, I do feel better," in more ways than one.

**Author's Notes:**

**Here we have a slightly longer chapter. ;D Anyone who could pick out little references gets a cookie. Anyone who can figure out what Disney movie Phoebe's home world in modeled off of gets a whole jar of Nutella. :P**

**Read, Enjoy, and Review! **

**Hmmm, Ansem likes kisses now does he? **


	17. Right

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 17: Right

The mornings feel good. The nights have become numb, yet blissful. The cackling is a faint murmur in the back of my mind, and the nightmares have finally settled into dreams I can barely remember. I feel well again; accustomed to a few more things.

I like routines. Routines give me a sense of where I am; how I'm supposed to function. I'm content with doing whatever Ansem commands throughout the day and laying down with him at night. It feels unusual when I go to sleep by myself, and even more when it's in my own room. I realize I like staying with him. I suppose it makes me feel safe. I'm not a person intended to be alone. I'll go crazy, or grow depressed.

All the while, the closer I get to him, the more questions he asks about me. I can tell he's curious. There's that twinkle of interest behind the fires of his eyes when he inquires about my past or personal stuff. I usually tell him close to nothing, though he finds ways of twisting it out of me. This occurs mostly by methods of making me uncomfortable. Looming over me, touching in sensitive/odd places, backing me into no-exit-zones, pinching, etc. I have to constantly remind myself that Ansem could be heinously abusive if he wanted to. He hasn't hit me yet, and I really don't think he ever will.

But, is he cruel? Yes, he is very cruel. I always wonder how cruel he would be if I wasn't me, but someone else. He wouldn't have kept them as long as he's kept me. Don't I feel special?

"I still want to know where you are from," Ansem nibbles on the end of a Popsicle stick. He ate his in three bites. I'm still working on mine. _Yum._

I savor the sweet mango flavor and formulate a reply in my head. "I'm not from here," I run my tongue over my treat keeping the melt from dripping down from the top and onto my hand. He watches with mild interest, his expression calm as his eyes travel.

"That's quite obvious, Phoebe. Let's save time. Tell me where you're from,"

"I don't like giving out more than I need to," I smile at him taking a coy graze at my ice-cream. He licks his teeth.

"Oh, and you don't have the need to tell me? Is that it?" He edges close. His fingers drum lightly on the counter top as he moves. He's such a predator.

I shrug my shoulders and continue to suck on my Popsicle.

"I see," he stands in front of me. For a second I think he's going to drag me down, off the counter. "Fine. Won't you tell me your age?" I notice he's still much taller than me, even when I'm sitting up high.

"Hmmm, depends. How old are you?" I take another long lap at my ice-cream and stare from under my eyelashes. He wedges apart my legs and stands between them.

"In compliance with my appearance I would say I'm in my 30s, but..." he snaps his Popsicle stick in half and sets it on the counter beside me.

"But?"

"My actual age as a heartless, as of now, is approximately seven years," he leans in and takes a bite from the bottom of my Popsicle. I take it out of my mouth and swat him away.

"_Seven_? I'm with a younger man?" I laugh as I bring what's left of my Popsicle back to my mouth. "That makes me a cougar,"

He tilts his head to the side and gives me a hungry look, still watching me eat. "What's so funny?" He purrs.

I scrunch my face at him and push on his shoulder "Stop watching me you _pervert_. If you really want to know,"

"And, I do" he tugs on a piece of my hair.

"I'm twenty five. Appearance wise, that makes you a bit older than me,"

"My, my, I was expecting you to be younger," he hums pressing himself against me and locking me in a warm kiss. The last of my Popsicle melts smoothly between us. It's decadent, slow, and very sweet. The kitchen falls silent with the sound of our low suction. Softly, his tongue grazes against the bottom and edges of my lips. He grunts and I laugh into him because it always tickles when he does that. I feel as his mouth tugs up into a smirk.

We continue kissing with both of our mouths open and heated. My tongue flicks across his front teeth then slowly darts in rubbing warmly against his. He flinches at an intrusion that is unknown to him, because he's never shared a kiss like this with anyone before.

Idly at first, he moves his slick appendage; pushing and twisting against mine. I fight him and lose my breath; drawing mine in every time I breathe out. We're panting. I run my fingers through his hair, and he grabs the back of my head.

"You taste good," I forget we actually have something to do.

Let's see...

Start Time: 2:17  
End Time: 3:25

What ever it was it just didn't get done.

"You taste better,"

_Yum. _

* * *

You're only half listening to all that she tells you. Sure, some if it you'd like to know, but your trying to save lost time. You focus on the writing in front of you. Preparations don't even prepare themselves. The end is drawing near, and you want to be ready, knowing all there is to know when it's time to move forward. You sigh, pulling a pen out of your cloak when the one you had runs out of ink. You had finally gotten the chance to organize your desk only to clutter it up again when you've discovered something new.

"You asked me if I danced,"

"I did. I remember you saying something along the lines of that being classified information," you watch her kick off her red heels and cross her legs on the floor near the door, then turn back to your desk.

"I did,"

"Did?" You murmur.

"Yes, I did dance. I mean, I still do. I just don't like I used to," you hear her huff through her nose.

"Why?" You fake interest to pass the time.

"I made a deal that I shouldn't have,"

"And I assume this involved your little tangle with Maleficent?"

"Yeah, I regret some of it. I danced in the streets, in the morning, at night, in the rain, on and in buildings, on poles. It didn't matter,"

There is a very long pause because you don't say anything back immediately. You set the pen down and process all of what she just said. You turn around.

...

What?

"Poles?" You squint at her incredulously.

"I caught your real attention, eh?" She grins.

"Poles?"

"Poles,"

"What do you mean by poles?"

"It's a long story I don't exactly want to tell," she stares at the floor combing her hands nervously through her hair.

"No, please tell," you lean back and cross your legs.

"I explored different kinds of dancing. But, by poles I'm referring to Broadway. We were...professionals,"

"Burlesque?" You prop an elbow on an arm chair and bite your tallest knuckle.

"Yes, and extravaganza. You know? Tight Corsets, glitter dust make-up, strip teases, high heels, and high kicks. Oh, and the _feathers_! I loved it," she breathes.

"And what where you?" You pick up your sketch book struck with a sudden impulse; a memory.

"Center stage. A show stopper. Standing ovation. But, that's just dancing. I don't really sing all that much. They liked it when I did anyhow," she sniffs and pulls her knees up and close to her body. "Performing in burlesque is where I earned my _Motivation_," she summons it shifting her weapon around in her hands.

"I'd like to see you dance," you tap your chin.

"Only if you'd dance with me,"

You snort. _Highly unlikely_.

"Ansem?" She pulls the blanket she's sitting on from under her and wraps it around her shoulders.

"Yes, woman?" You've turned back to your desk again.

"Do you remember who you where before?" She sounds thoughtful and slightly lowers her voice to appear curious rather than nosey.

"I remember only a fraction of a part of a half," you're satisfied with your sketch. You snap the book closed and put it back in its place.

"That's not a lot,"

"No, and it tends to be distorted. But, I remember all that I need to, and that is enough. I accept the fact that I am not whole,"

"I accept that about you, too,"

* * *

December comes about bringing its cold wind, its snow, and its pitch black nights fading into short gray days.

She thought November made her teeth chatter. December made her bones numb, and the freezing rain wasn't helping. At all.

Lucky though, she had invested in some warmer sleeping wear and a black coat.

"I have no self control," she stares at the discarded pieces of taffy candy wrappers lying in a pitiful heap near her resting arms as she leans against the kitchen cabinets. So far she has eaten almost all of his coconut crackers, two Popsicles, and is currently working on his secluded stash of salt water taffy. There will be murder.

"I regret nothing," she pops another in her mouth. "Okay, that's the last one," she chews setting the food back in the top cabinet (as far as she is able to reach) exactly where it all was.

"Why do cravings attack at night?" she drums her hands over her stomach contently and returns to her place near the counter collecting the evidence.

Wonderful timing! He walks in.

Crap.

She oh-so elegantly stuffs the evidence down her bra. If she acts natural maybe he won't notice.

"Is there anymore ice-cream?" So he's got the late night munchies, too?

"I'm not sure. You could check," No, there are none. She ate them. She ate them all.

He dips his head into the freezer moving the contents around. She pretends there's something interesting about her nails and slinks inch by inch towards the swing doors.

"There are no more,"

"Sad day," a few more steps.

He checks the top cabinet and she tip toes out breaking into a sprint as soon as she hits the hallway.

Muhahaha!

The evidence is discarded in a proper trash facility when she remembers it's there...when she goes to take a shower.

* * *

"How do you feel?" He watches her sleep at night listening to the rain turn to sleet, and the sleet turn to snow and hail.

"Better than I had. Like a weight was lifted," his nose is pressed into the back of her head. Her lotion and body wash makes her smell like cocoa butter.

"How do you feel? Physically, I mean,"

"Calm. And you?"

"Warm. Why don't you like it when I shiver?"

"It's pathetic,"

"Well than. You do a good job," she grumbles.

"Good job of what, dear?"

"Keeping me warm. It's an achievement for someone like you,"

"Why would you say that?"

"I would think that a heartless wouldn't adapt to affection, and you learn fast,"

"..."

"You know, you want more from me, and you give a little more back. But, don't worry. Wanting affection isn't a bad thing. You keep me warm, and I'll keep you satisfied,"

"How about you just do what I ask of you. Go to sleep," he grunts pulling her in by her waist.

"Fine,"

"Oh, and another thing,"

"Yes, Ansem?"

"Stop _preying_ upon my food,"

"I regret nothing,"


	18. Off

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 18: Off

It alerted me in the middle of the night, but I had ignored it. It was something that lingered in the air by the month. I could never quite figure out what it was, but it smelled sweet like strong nectar. The smell would be constant for at least a week, and when that week passed away, so would it. Though, it would fill my senses again in the next month. That moment is now that November passed, and it is deep into December.

I had suspicion about its source (it only occurred when she was near and never happened before her arrival), but I never begged to question. I will say, that whatever it is, it's distracting. Arousing, it does things to me. _Very slight things_. Which is why it woke me from my still state of sleep (if that's the only word for it).

It is well into the after noon now, and I haven't bothered to rise from my bed. She hasn't awaked, sleeping in a light snore. She slumbers in unusual positions. Her stomach facing the mattress. It can't be comfortable, yet I never move her and she doesn't move herself.

I take in the air through a deep breath through my nose. That sugary smell is stronger now mixed with something else. A metallic tinge?

"What is that?" I take another whiff of the air following it as I sit up. I hover above her neck. As I suspected the scent is strong there. It almost burns my nose. I trail down her shoulders sniffing at her arms and sides until I track it to her soft, wide hips.

Iron, salt, and something distinguishably sweet.

Curiously, I pear over her side moving her slightly. A sizable pool of blood has seeped through her underwear and onto the sheets around her midsection.

_...?_

_...! _

I wake her up.

* * *

"Huuughn?" I frown, and whine. I don't want to wake up. I feel too tired.

"Phoebe," he sounds stern.

"What is it?" I grog rubbing my eyes, and wiping the saliva from the side of my face. I slept really hard didn't I? It's dawn of the weird ass position all over again.

"What? What? What?" I say quickly shoving his arm away from behind.

He merely stares down, and when I focus I can finally see what he's staring at. I lift my legs slightly.

"_UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH_,"

* * *

He doesn't ask if I'm okay.

He doesn't ask why there is blood in his bed sheets.

He doesn't ask if it's normal or not.

He just doesn't ask questions and I appreciate that. I'm not in the answering mood. He gets up to use the bathroom after me like nothing unusual has happened. I hear as he goes to pee a long, hard stream into the toilet. I roll my eyes. He has quirks, too.

I groan. I hate cramps, and I'm out of pain killers. Taking it slow this lazy afternoon, I try fitting my bottom black corset around my waist. It will not wrap around. It will not zip up, and I doubt the buttons will snap either. Forget it. I throw my tux off all together and stick with my undershirt and pants (I was lucky to get those on). I also hate being bloated.

I huff. I have to change the bed sheets. And so, the countdown to my fantastic day begins.

Fantastic? No, I lied.

"Are you going to wash that?" He smells shower fresh. It engulfs the room when the master bathroom door swings open setting free tid-bits of steam. He ties his locks into a pony tail, combing reproachfully at the three streaks of hair atop his wet head.

"Yes," same huge bloody botch on two layers of bedding. Good thing these sheets are all dark. There would have been no hope if they where white, or a lighter color.

"By hand?" He's slipping on a belt through the loops of his pants hanging low on his hips, exposing a happy little trail of fine silvery hair.

"Unfortunately, that's the only way. This place doesn't exactly have a laundry mat. I've washed by hand before anyway,"

He stares at me with a critical gleam in his eye like he wants to say something else. He changes his mind, though, looks me up and down as I gather the soiled sheets, and leaves me to my own. His undercoat is thrown on as he exits; most likely to his office where he'll call me to work later. I wonder why he's gotten up so late anyway. What is it two in the afternoon now? Maybe it's because he's been up for a few nights in-a-row. Coming and going, leaving and then being back at late hours muttering to himself about things I minimally understand. He's anticipating something again, and I'm not sorry to say that I am, too.

A little while later, I gather a discarded bucket I had seen in the deeper hallways of the castle. It should be large enough. I heat a few gallons of water using the stove pouring it pot by pot (this place does run out of hot water, and Ansem used it all). I stay in the kitchen because there really isn't anywhere else to go. All of the sheets are black, so I don't worry about the color wearing, and blood won't come out easily with cold water.

I set to work scrubbing out my menstrual blood with laundry soap and a boar brush. It reminds me of when I was fourteen washing clothes on Sundays with my Mamma. I never minded it though. Well, until the water grew cold and started to stink stale. Hanging them in the breeze was blissful.

I rest for a while watching the orangish red hue of the suds and water. Steam makes the bottoms of my forearms and elbows moist as I lean over. I take deep breaths and suck my stomach in because it hurts. I exhale. I wait a bit more staring at my reflection in the heated water.

I change the focus of my eyes studying the cloth underneath the surface. I sigh deeply clutching my abdomen as I sit up. Curved indents make the skin of my arms tingle when I lift my own weight. I stare at the water some more and gaze at my face counting the numerous dots there...

I notice something.

I stay still like I don't notice it. Calm. Stay calm.

Someone other than me stares back from the reflection. A dark figure in the shape of a man stands hooded right at the corner of the kitchen door; watching me. My heart pounds.

Very slowly I stand to my feet. My hands go to my hips casually as if I'm checking the progress of my work, like I don't know that a stranger is near.

I remember a cat telling me to watch out for strangers.

Like the strike of a lightening bolt my whip is summoned and cracked back in their direction with a twist in my back and a bounce in my step.

"Whoa, Whoa there little lady. I don't think yah' want to get in a tangle, not while your keeper's away," the stranger dodged it narrowly. The spur is lodged deep into the wall inches from their hidden head.

Same black coat. Different man. He's not the deep voice I was expecting. It grades and dips like an accented smoker.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" I snatch the cord from its snag in the wall.

"Nobody," he slurs. A twitch in his gloved fingers. "Came here on some business,"

"Well then stranger, if he's gone, shouldn't you leave?"

"No, no, no business with him. No thank you. I wanted to see what I'm up against,"

"You're up against the door frame there, now leave,"

"Oh-ho-ho! Nice one! I'd laugh if I could. You know I didn't believe Xemnas when he told me the heartless was keepin' a lady. I honestly expected a carcass,"

Who?

He moves back, and I inch forward.

"But, here you are, just as he said you'd be, alive and well," the sound of an opening corridor.

I watch. I don't think it's smart to go after him.

"Later," and he's gone.

A cat said I should watch for strangers. I'm going to keep this to myself.

* * *

She catches her breath on a wall. So much to do. So little time. _And_ no pain killers. It feels as if she's been everywhere and back. She came back from visiting not one, but three words today. One was sandy and hot as the devil's breath. Another was cold very cold, and she couldn't understand the oriental language. The last she didn't even remember.

Ansem wanted to know if there where princesses. And, in fact, there where.

But, why was that information important?

Nonetheless she limps, crawls, and drags herself back to where he is waiting to deliver the news.

"And?"

"Every world that I ventured to had a princess," she rubs her hands together wishing she had put on her coat. It had started to snow again not to long ago.

"Good, assuming those are princesses with the proper hearts,"

She clenches her stomach again, bends over, and rests her hands on her knees. She's breathing deeply sucking in her belly to distract herself from the abdominal pain.

He barely registers her silence glancing at her as her reads over his folders, and folders of documental papers. He stands there unsure of how to approach her obvious pain. Her agony is foreign to him and the source of it is unfamiliar to his species and gender. He has a faint idea of this strictly feminine process, and decides to keep it that way. Female mechanics aren't his forte. Of all the knowledge he contains that just might be what he keeps in the least. He had no experience in this life, or the other, or the one before that.

"Put that stack away, and you may retire for this evening. I still have much to do. Don't meddle while I'm gone. I don't run out of proper punishments to disobedience," he walks right past her, and she gets the message that doesn't quite care for her cramps.

But, that is okay.

He leaves.

Run! Run! Run!

She's almost there!

_Jump! _

She lands dead center in a bed full of freshly changed sheets. She rolls in relishing in little circles with absolutely no fear of falling off the edges of such a large bed.

"_Mmmmmmmmm, it's all mine_," she cackles twisting herself in the soft, dark folds. He can't punish her for going straight to sleep.

* * *

"You want me to go after his lady?" The figures converse in secluded areas watching from afar.

"Yes, perhaps she'll make a fine addition,"

"What you're asking me ain't easy,"

"I understand this fact,"

"Possible backlash man. Darkness ain't something I enjoy getting caught in in battle. It leaves...marks,"

"If for now I can't have what I want, why should he? He's not the only one who senses potential, though what he sees is different from the view of mine"

"Seems like you and him don't get along. Then again who gets along with their heartless?"

"Indeed. Wait. Let this beginning run its course,"

"And then?"

"We'll twist the cords when the time presents itself,"

"Fine, I'll snatch his dame. But, daddy's not going to be happy when his baby doll's gone,"


	19. Almost

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 19: Almost

_December 22nd _

Time flies.

It's sad, but I can't go home for Christmas. Not that I'm all that excited anyway. Ansem's not the celebratory kind of person. I'm not even sure he remembers. Though, I still feel that I should do something. Hopefully he won't mind.

Hallow Bastion's friendlier parts are decorated in reefs of green, red holly, bows, and bright ornaments. I shopped there last night and was able to witness the numerous lights. It really was nice, nothing compared to what I was used to seeing around the holidays, but great anyway. It was a pleasant change for such a gloomy little place.

I walked around in the snow for a while. I almost got caught in the middle of a snowball fight. Cid, one of the participants, came to greet me. Steam rose from the top of his blonde head. He was drenched in snow, but somehow he managed to keep his cigarette. He said he liked my new coat.

I chatted only for a little while before moving on. I purchased a personal present from a private shop in Agrabah earlier for myself, and some special gifts for Ansem there. I took them 'home' and wrapped them up alone. Not too shabby I must say.

"Finished," I marvel at the job well done in front of me. My tree isn't half bad. It glows in multi-colored neon lights at its bristled tips. It's small and covered in decorations of my favorite colors. I straighten it up at my bedroom desk and let it glow.

Satisfied, I tuck the purchases I made last night under its shine. All of the black, bowed boxes fit neatly into place. I move out of my room and on to the kitchen. I am going to bake a cake.

Maybe Ansem will want some whenever he gets back. It's been at least a good week. I always wonder where he goes off to. I never saw pillaging as a hobby.

* * *

_December 24th_

You wake up from taking an afternoon nap to find him lying next to you. It's dark. You adjust your eyes and focus on the outlines of his still face. He looks so tired. His glowing orange-yellow-red eyes are barely visible under his falling eyelids.

"Ansem?" You sit up and set a hand on his warm cheek.

He grunts painfully telling you that he is awake. He opens his eyes, but only a little.

"What's wrong?"

He does not reply.

Slowly you turn to flick on a lamp light. He shifts his head the other way, burying his face into a mass of pillow. You hear him sigh.

Stretching, you lean on him lightly and place a hand on his shoulder. "Ansem?" You shake him and pull one side of your shirt back on your shoulder. You let your hand travel. You were going to rub his back, but you don't when you notice that it's swollen, red, and aching in places.

"Ansem, your back?" you gingerly stroke his spine, rubbing into the thick muscles over his shoulder blades.

"A minor injury. I'm fine," his voice is muffled and low.

"Where did you go? What happened?" You massage into the back of his neck working your way down, untangling the deep, tense tissue.

"Nothing that is of concern. I had something to tend to, but one doesn't get what they want without working for it. There was some...difficulty,"

"As long as you aren't falling off of cliffs," you laugh darkly, lift a leg, and straddle his waist, careful not to sit on too much of his back. He flinches, but not due to pain.

"Did you behave yourself, Phoebe?" He's closing his eyes.

"Your definition of behaving and my definition of behaving are different. But, you could say I was being a good girl while you where away," you smile. It feels good. You haven't in that way in a long time.

"Hmph...," he moans contently.

"Feel better?" You curl your legs in, lay down, and rest your face near the back of his neck. Stray strands of hair tickle your cheeks. "I made a cake. Is that bad of me?"

"Depends,"

* * *

_December 25th _

There is a sudden weight on my lap.

"Wake up!" She has run into my room. I pretend she didn't.

"I am awake,"

"Get up!" she puts her small hands on my chest and bounces up and down on her knees.

"What for, woman?" I'm not in the mood for her sudden bursts of excitement.

"It's Christmas," she smiles at me when I finally open my eyes.

"Is that what they call it?" I growl and turn sharply on my side. She collapses next to me.

"Get up. Get up. Get up," she's pulling on my arms and pressing herself against my neck and jaw.

"Go away,"

"No, get up!"

"Don't test me," I snarl.

"I guess you don't want that piece of cake...or your presents,"

The cake, I could wait for.

"You got me something?" I pry her from me. She bites her lip and nods her head.

"Yes, even though you're guaranteed for the naughty list,"

"But you have a different interpretation of misbehavior,"

"True, true," she nods stupidly again. "Don't you want them?"

"I'm not getting up. Bring them here," I shove her off the edge and chuckle as she rolls onto the floor.

"Ugh, why are you so stubborn?" She squirms onto her knees. Hands rake, removing her long clumps of hair from in front of her face.

"Why do you persist on taxing my nerves? Go get them before I change my mind,"

She darts out the double doors and before I have time to sit up, she is back hopping into the bed with the same vigor as before. I scowl at her, but she keeps her smile and that irks me.

"Here, open this one first," she gives me a box larger than the one she is holding completely in her hands.

I take my time unraveling it. Rather than ripping it all off and making a mess, I peel off the tape and unfold the neatly wrapped edges. I slide out a wooden box. It's of medium weight. I eye her.

"Take the top off," she taps it with her polished black fingernail, then folds her hands eagerly in her lap.

Still giving her a look, I remove the top to the thin wooden box and look inside.

"A sketching set?" Multiple lead types and measurements are held in pre made notches in the wood. Colored pencils, a kneaded eraser, charcoal sticks, and smudging tools accompany the lead set.

"I thought you might want something a little better than just a pen,"

"You thought right. Your over observance has paid off,"

"Sure," she moves the other gift around in her lap.

"Is that also for me?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure I should give it to you just yet," she tucks it to her side.

"Suit yourself. Did you get anything?"

"Sure, some presents from Santa," she laughs rubbing her shoulder, "I really wasn't expecting any. I had bought something for myself,"

"And what was that?" I set my present on an opposite night stand.

"Oh, I'm wearing it,"

"Hmmm?" Now that she's drawn my true attention, I actually take the time to look at her.

She's wearing a long sleeved, sheer night grown that rides low on her breasts exposing her shoulders and high on her thighs. Long black thigh high stockings are kept in place by bright green garter belts. It's held tight under her chest by more green lace, and frilled at all of its edges.

"I didn't know you were the type to buy lingerie,"

"Agrabah had French imports. I thought, why not? They had things in my favorite colors,"

"Green and black?"

"Aww, how'd you know? I got them for a good price, too. The merchant I bargained it from thought I was a nobleman's wife,"

I get lost in my own thoughts.

"Ansem?" She chimes when I fall silent.

"Yes?"

"Merry Christmas,"

* * *

_December 31st_

He tells her to come here as he pops open its quark. The lights that illuminate from outside are dim and smoky. The illumination is dull through the snow and frosted window seals.

There is protest. She knows very well the content of the jar, but when she is convinced she allows him to tilt her head.

The thick, dark liquid flows through her teeth and down her throat making her warm like liquor. It doesn't burn, or hurt like it had before.

He takes a swig, because for now it's been the only thing strong enough to keep him bound to the physical.

Who doesn't drink for New Years?

But, certain things draw crowds, things that aren't tame.

"Come with me, outside,"

It's still cold. Still wet but it doesn't bother her. It's a light headed feeling, but good all the same.

Those deep arms. The warm holding. The soft kissing makes her happy.

He makes her happy, but only when he's being good.

It's quiet; calm. She feels so very comfortable again.

But, in the next moment it's _not_.

A roar. A loud roar makes her heart lurch. A beast prowls from out of the sharp cliffs of snow, drawn by what was opened hours ago. Its jet black body and glowing yellow eyes gleam menacingly from afar.

"Get back," he steps in front of her.

It runs. Its heavy legs make the ground rumble. Pipes shake from the castle looming above. The predator, a heartless, roars again lunging for anything in its path.

She covers her shields her face to keep the snow from her eyes.

"Come Guardian," she can hear him above anything else summoning a monster of his own.

Heavy thumps. Ripping. Fierce bellows. She opens her eyes to inky splatters in the snow. It would be blood, if it wasn't so black. He's shown something who's bigger and badder.

His hand. He extends his gloved hand towards her body frozen with panic on the ground. His Guardian visible high above his shoulders.

She doesn't move.

"Don't be afraid,"

It's hard when she's reminded that she should be...

So very afraid.

But, she takes his hand.

"Okay,"

**Author's Notes:**

**Ah, I hope you enjoyed this treat of a chapter. Things shall begin to unravel quite soon. **

**I'd also like an opinion for future chapters. There is a possibility that the content could get graphic, THAT IS, if you want me to spare, or not spare details. **

**If you'd like me to go into detail than I will have to change the rating for gore, slight sexual situations, etc. If not than it will stay at teen. Send me a message about it if it matters to you. ;D **

**R&R! **


	20. Realize

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 20: Realize

I've been thinking for a while now. The same thought has stuck with me since the start of spring.

_What are we? _

I sit on the bathroom counter waiting for bath water to fill the large tub. I debated on whether or not to use the shower, but I opted to bathe. It might do me some good to soak. I had an incident in Wonderland yesterday. I was napping when an umbrella bird knocked me from a tree. I've been sore ever since.

Surprisingly, Ansem allowed me to use his bathroom. I've only ever been in here to fetch him things. It's nice and spacious. Nothing, too special though. It's old like everything else here.

Sighing, I turn down the rushing tap. My towel slips off, and I slip in.

_Ahhh~ _

I sink down. Only parts of my face are left dry above the surface. I only feel bad that there wasn't any bubble bath to accompany the hot soothing water. I close my eyes. I get that thought again.

To be honest I think about him all of the time. What is he to me? Or more importantly, _what am I to him_? From the beginning our relationship has been master and—well captive. But, I'm not so sure anymore. It doesn't feel quite the same. He still pokes and prods, and I'm still just as nosey and slightly defiant, yet he's become much more relaxed. I find his presence comforting (most of the time. He's still intimidating and ruthless).

It feels...

He feels so...

_I_ feel different, but in the smallest of ways. And, I feel it every time I look at him. There are still times when he makes me so afraid, but I learn to deal with those aspects of his personality. He is what he is.

I think I know why. I think I—

I love—l

A heavy knock on the door separates me from my deep thoughts.

"Hurry, it's imperative that I leave soon," Ansem warns me, his voice muffled beyond the door I _just_ remembered I forgot to lock.

"Alright, alright!" I grab for a towel before he decides he wants to walk in.

So much for that.

* * *

"Did you watch them?"

"Yes,"

"State your findings,"

"Whatever it is you're after, you'll have to wait just a bit more,"

This could take all of this year, I note despondently. I do not like waiting, even though I can.

"Fine. You may retire," I massage my temples. I do not feel well.

"I was actually wondering if-," she trails swaying her hips nervously from side to side. The lamp light casts dull patterns across her petite structure.

"If you could what?" I bark turning in my chair. I set a sketch pencil down on the desk.

"If I could go out tonight?" She puts on a sweet face. I scowl at her.

"The answer is no,"

"Why not? I can't stay here all the time. I'm bored. When I'm bored I snoop,"

"And, your point? You know what I do and do not allow,"

"My _point_ is, would you rather me sticking my nose in your business, or would it be better if you let me go out and visit?"

I stare her down decisively.

"And I think it'd be nice if you came with me," she gives me a smile that I don't return with one of my own.

"You're pushing your luck,"

"Please?" She plants herself in my lap; perched on my left thigh.

"No,"

"It's only desert! Please?" Her arms fling themselves around my neck.

"No, Phoebe,"

It's a good thing she's persistent in nature.

* * *

The night is airy and cold and the crowds of Metropolis thin to slivers of people, or lone citizens who walk with their homes as a final destination. This street is traveled by those who enjoy the nightlife. Austins, Buicks, and Cadillacs trail down the neon strip in search of pubs, or a good night club. The women smoke their cigarettes a long way down with rich men on their arms.

"You know where we are going?" He looks on to the bright lights and gadgets with mild interest. He has never viewed this world.

"Yes, it's a sweets cafe and bar with music, and entertainment," she guides him by a gloved hand. One of which is black this time around. He had changed into a long black trench coat with dark shell buttons, and a high collar that hid half his face if buttoned all the way up. The thick cotton-wool fabric suited him. She thought it made him look casual and smart (and less noticeable in the clothing aspect of his appearance). They arrive and are greeted by an android man on the inside.

"Table for two?" The android smiles in a distinctively human way. And, he would appear that way if it weren't for the obvious electronic seams that held his metallic body together, or the bright blue glow behind his beautiful eyes and other hefty mechanical parts.

"Yes please, and a booth if you don't mind,"

"Certainly, this way,"

The small cafe drones with the laughter and murmuring of people enjoying the night. Some plays a trumpet well. The candle light and dully lit lamps illuminate the tables just enough for occupants to see. The aroma is sweet like the warm inside of a bakery. Clinks of silverware echo here and there, and off in a corner young men toast to the company of their girlfriends and other associates. Every ones is streaked in classy blazers, evening suits, and fanned dresses with high heels. The atmosphere is clearly a happy one.

"The menu is up there. Your server will be here shortly. Welcome back Ms. Greendown,"

"Thank you," she slides into her side of the chocolate themed booth and crosses her legs under the table. Her calf brushes warmly past the material of her guest's pants.

"Does he know you?" He asks pulling off his gloves and pocketing them into his coat.

"Yes. They've had that particular android for a while now. They never replace him even when a new model comes out,"

"It's peculiar,"

"Peculiar?"

"This world,"

"This is Metropolis, but I can understand why you might say that," she slides off her coat revealing her own change of clothing; a form fitting dark blue cocktail dress that leaves her back open.

"What's wrong, Ansem?" She watches as he shifts uncomfortably on his side of the table. He meshes his hands together and keeps his head down.

"Not quite in my element wouldn't you say, Phoebe," he gives her an unreadable expression.

"Only people," she takes a sip of the milk she ordered, bites the straw, and smiles at him with all of her teeth.

"Exactly," he grumbles, and she laughs at him.

* * *

"Here are your fudge brownies, Ms. Greendown," an waitress sets an full plate in front of her. Two hot fudge brownies topped with ice cream, whipped cream, and chocolate syrup. "If you need anything else let me know. You, too," the waitress gives a flirtatious wink that he ignores.

"It looks good. Too bad you didn't order anything, Ansem," she takes a slow delightful bite and bats her eyes, sneering as the waitress struts away.

"You're going to torture me?" He's toying with the fingers on her left hand. He stares at her smiling if only slightly.

"Excuse me sir. I believe you torture me all the time," she takes another chocolate bite. "Sometimes I think you're sadistic,"

"_Sadistic?_" He chuckles peering mischievously through the devilish glow of his eyes. "I don't find _sexual satisfaction_ in causing pain, no matter how interesting it tends to be, dear. But, I will not lie, causing pain is a shameless habit of mine, isn't it?" he takes a fork from a napkin near his forearm.

"I didn't say I was going to share with you. Hey!" She attempts to hit him away. A little too late, he's taken half for himself.

"Well then if I'm sadistic that makes you a masochist. You tend to be a glutton for punishment," he taps her nose.

"_Masochist?_ I don't think so. I have absolutely _no_ tolerance for pain. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't find it sexually appealing," she pauses thoughtfully and licks warm syrup from her fingers.

"But, Ansem, I will not lie, I don't mind being _dominated_,"

"Hmm, that's not hard to believe. Glad we could have this talk," he licks his fork. The tip of his long pink tongue extends out past his unnaturally sharp canines.

"Glad you could come with me," she rolls her eyes from his previous comment. Down goes the last of her glass of milk. Her mostly eaten plate is pushed towards her company.

"Would you like the rest? You have already eaten half of it," She hops up. The band in the background revs up something sassy.

"Why not, but where are you going?"

"You are in for a treat,"

"Am I?" He cocks his head thoughtfully to the side.

"You'll get to watch me dance. You're welcome to join me,"

* * *

"Is there anything I can assist you with, Maleficent?" The deep boom of his voice can be heard over the rush of the wind. It makes Maleficent shiver and swallow just as she had with someone else.

"Indeed there is, Xemnas. Assuming you've peeked in on your _other_ as I have," she states and waits for some sort of reply.

"Is this of your concern?" The Nobody does not move, but nearly continues to stare in deep focus out into the distance. The jagged terrain of Hallow Bastion threatens many feet below. Heartless large and small scuttle and prowl beyond the cover of sharp rocks and scattered metal.

"There is. The woman is in relation to me," she grins slyly when he turns around sparked by interest in the new tab of the subject.

"I understand you're the one who threw her away to be ravaged," Xemnas' piercing orange eyes are barely hidden under the edges of his hood.

"It had been my intention, but it seems the circumstances have changed. The debt, as I am sure you know, was set for two years. I assumed he'd steal her heart, and she'd be gone long before now,"

"He hasn't, and he won't,"

"How do you know?"

"I think I should know the other part to my previous existence. Now leave, I'm busy,"


	21. Let's Have a Wedding

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 21: Let's Have a Wedding

The images still vividly canter through my mind as I go about my business in daylight and dark. Lingering like a ghost of a dream, it haunts me. Daydreaming, I've never forgotten how, but it comes as an unfamiliarity when I do. I want to focus. I want to tune-out; vision it again. I want to save it for later. I want it, need it right now.

She danced for herself those nights ago while watching, interested, and some lustful eyes followed. I was amongst them. I wasn't surprised to find that she could, indeed dance. Very well, for the way she did at that time and place; casually. Yet, when we became alone, comfortable, and back in familiar corridors, she danced only for me, and with the accompaniment of no music, she sang.

The deep, dark, devilish demand swirled behind her eyes fading in and out of the tinted lamp light, reminding me of the darkness I stirred in her so long ago. Dusty black shadows cast smoothly across her cocoa brown skin following as she twirled, and teased. The tune she carried rolled off and around her body like water. She was so flexible. So _thick_ and tantalizing. I wanted to touch her, but stuck to a false cynical calm and only watched.

There was skill in her sway that spoke of her profession. The almost feline curve and twist of her body was mesmerizing. I couldn't redirect my attention else where, not even if I wanted to.

For now I'll preoccupy myself with answering her queue of questions. There's nothing left for me to do except collect hearts and wait. Perhaps this time around I won't grow irritated and ignore her all together. Today, as yesterday, and the day before that, my mind is else where. The feeling is foreign in my case. I normally don't fantasize about anything, or anyone.

"But, how do we know it's not the other way around?" She's putting a rather large 3D puzzle together (one of her Christmas presents) as she sits on the floor in the library at my feet. Her clothes are changed for comfort, and her hair strung up in a messy pony tail.

"Light is 'good', but not all of the time," I drag on through the conversation attempting to read the book of Openings. If not out, and about I desire to do something.

"And Darkness is?"

"It's assumed to be bad, for a lack of a better word. But, it is never said, only stated as a beginning,"

"I still don't get it," she fiddles with a long plastic puzzle piece and tries to fit it into some place. She sighs contently picking up another after the first failed to lock in and continue the figure.

"What's not to get. Both are a source of power, and each play a vital roll,"

"Yes,"

"But do you know what makes darkness more special than light?"

"What?"

"It's not quite defined. It's power that can spark anything,"

"...?" She chucks a puzzle piece to her side.

"You'd be surprised at what you'll find in the places that those who are ignorant won't go. Darkness is something not to be feared, but _embraced_,"

"Well then preach, sir. I've never really been one for the light anyway. Looks boring," She ads rather sarcastically.

I glance at her lazily giving up on reading. No use in mindlessly attempting to read the same passage over again.

"Do you know what it is yet?" I point to the working on her lap.

"Oh, my puzzle? No, still a mystery. It's some kind of animal. There are pieces for legs over here. A black horse, maybe?" she slips another plastic piece in place making sure to keep all of the others from breaking apart.

"The box doesn't tell you?"

"Nope. I'm almost done though,"

I allow my eyes to drift close.

"You know, if you're bored you could help me," she breathes throwing yet another plastic shard to the side.

"No thank you,"

* * *

Yesterday was quite uneventful, and unfortunately today might be the same.

Much to her discomfort I linger in the kitchen while she cooks, judging her silently. She should be used to this by now, but she never seems to like it when I hover. I find it funny.

She mumbles to herself every now and again scuttling around the counter tops and cabinets searching for an ingredient, a spoon, a pan, whatever. I fixate an unmoving gaze on her, and after a while I fail to notice my waning focus. To cut it short, I space out completely. When I become aware of myself, much to my chagrin, I become aware of what I was so entranced on.

_Her behind. _

I frown. My eyebrows knit thoughtfully on my forehead. You know, I never noticed how large...

"Has anyone ever told you...?" I trail off, minding myself. I rest my knuckles under my chin; an elbow is propped on the counter.

"Told me what?" she hums and follows my plane of sight assuming that I'm looking closer to the floor. She licks alfredo sauce nonchalantly from her smallest finger.

Even though I know I shouldn't ask, I do anyway. Of all the wisdom, knowledge, and the ability I keep in a keen eye, how I didn't register her more noticeable features (at least to myself) before hand is unsettling. Even more when I'm just noticing now, and can't help but look at nothing else.

"That you're ample,"

She pauses and slowly turns her body around. Her head is tilted as she licks more sauce from her hands. She stares with an incredulous quirk in her smile.

"I've been told I was fat, but what exactly are you talking about?"

I boldly lunge myself towards her. Hands latch to either side of her hips, give her a tight shake, and let go. She gets the message.

"Oh," she fidgets meekly obviously embarrassed "I really don't notice myself," she ducks around me temping out of sight. "Follow if you are hungry," she's taken the food with her calling me down the hall.

I follow rather idly.

* * *

The last files of his own are locked securely on the complex computer. Though the outside has began to warm in this new season this hidden compartment remains cold. He can faintly see his breath as he types.

He had detected the faint traces of another being when he had quietly, and in an unnoticeable manner, he entered. He had suspected that this password protected information had been the cause of the special visits unbeknownst to the woman. He didn't feel it was her need to know, or to worry.

The bright metallic glow of the computer painted false shadows across the piped walls. Relaxed on the outside, on guard within. As more and more time past the suspicion he felt grew. The closer he got to setting forth on his goal for darkness, the more these faint shadows began to appear, and none of them were heartless. With the notion to spite, he began. The information on this machine needed to be eradicated.

S E A S A L T I C E C R E A M

Access was found easy. Previous memories, though faint, made sure of it. Permanently he deleted numerous detailed digital files, or ones he didn't already have locked away for himself.

"XEHANORT"

...

...

Erased

* * *

"I neglected to give this to you," the sheets rustle around her legs. In her hand she holds a familiar black box.

I take it from her rather reluctantly. It's not that I don't trust her, it's just that sometimes (or most times) _I don't trust her_.

My left arm slinks tightly around and over her waist squeezing her close to my side, and meeting with my other arm to open it. Inside the box embedded in soft cushion, is a solid black-silver pocket watch dangling softly from a chain.

"For some reason it reminded me of you," she wriggles her arms free and clicks it open. The ticking arms point to no numbers. "You don't have to see them to know that they are there,"

"How interesting,"

"I guess that means you like it,"

"It means I'll keep it. Sit still won't you. You have a tendency to squirm,"

She jumps. A confused expression etches its way onto her face. "Sit still for what?"

I'm so awfully guilty aren't I? These things bring me so much pleasure to do. I jab my way into her soul before she has a chance to shirk and run from me. I dive in gathering pools of darkness from the deep depths of her heart. She's in so much pain, she can't scream. It remains hitched, and caught in her throat.

I can hear the high pitched cackling in the back of her mind. I chuckle attempting to avoid dragging out the agony. After I've had enough of her essence I bring it to the air. The dark tendrils seep smoothly through my knuckles. The ink green tint is mixed with my own shade of darkness and blends till it forms something solid.

After a few whisping moments I hold a solid black ring in my hand; fit just for her ring finger.

"Now that wasn't so bad," I mumble against the line of her jaw. She painfully clutches her chest; heaving and whimpering piteously.

"What d-did you do?" She's regaining her breath.

I hold it out to her so that she may see. "Confirmation that you are mine. Might as well accept it, dear. You already went through the pain,"

"Un-expectantly," she mumbles. With a trembling hand, she slips it on the right finger. She admires it slumping gradually against my side. Her eyes droop.

"Don't lose it,"

"Ansem," she breathes. "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were proposing to me in your own little twisted way,"

"Something like that,"

**Author's Notes:**

**Nah-ha! Finally made it to a hefty bridge! This chapter is important, but it's your job to figure out why! The next chapter should lead the way to more graphic content, but I won't change the rating until later when I need to. Thanks to all who put in their opinions! **

**If you haven't already I recommend you listen to "A Little Piece of Heaven" by Avenged Sevenfold. Even if the songs meaning is twisted into the mold of the fanfiction. **

**Get ready; it's going to get even more exciting! **

**R&R! **


	22. Never Been Quite So

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 22: Never been quite so

_The deep moans echo off the walls._

* * *

You walk with a quiet prestige. The steps of your heeled feet are muffled under the sway of your cloak. You mask your presence with skill. This is all for a very good reason.

You tap your fingers against wood, always looking in front of and behind yourself. You are searching for nothing in particular, but every bit of dirt you can find. You don't go about this in a cocky manner; it would be detrimental if you were caught.

You mumble under your breath. The large castle finally twists into a living space filled with less discarded metal. You can feel that there are others here. Your heart speeds ever so slightly in pace. This must be made quickly, because the woman is not by herself like you were hoping.

You hold your breath peeking around a large studying area. No one is there. _Excellent_. You sway in sweeping dust from your shoulders with a free hand. Numerous documents taint the desk inside with their dull and worn colors. Books are laid open on their doggie eared pages evident that they have been read over and over again. Selectively, you sweep over your arm gathering the data in wisps of green ember pooling in the palm of your hand. This will be recollected later.

You move on. There is much more to take. As you move further not even the rustle of your robe makes the slightest vibration of sound. You push your good fortune as you venture past another door. The rampant heartless are only slightly agitated at your deeper intrusion, but not enough to alert the one you are so desperate to avoid.

Now, you seek a special book. 33. That's the number you want. That's the number you were told held the secret to your wishes. But, as you pass one more door, something stops you; a simple spur of noise.

A whine followed by a masculine purr reaches your ears.

"What have we here?" You can't stop the sneer that spreads to occupy your face.

You lean in listening intently. The affectionate sounds continue. You think you aren't noticed. Barely through the cracks, can the soft silhouettes of a larger body covering another be seen.

_Well, well, well..._

* * *

I started off with a shower this morning to wash away the aches of my awful sleeping habit. It felt refreshing to stand for a bit under the hot spray...until it unexpectedly turned ice cold. My being-stabbed-to-death-by-a-psycho-in-the-shower-scream must have echoed through the whole castle. I hate it when the shower runs out of hot water. Ansem assumed I died and sarcastically commented that he was coming to mop up the blood. I knew he was kidding even though his serious face said otherwise. Maybe I scared him.

The afternoon was quiet compared to the racket of this morning. It was warm and airy, and the sun finally decided it wanted to peek through the gloomy grey clouds of this despondent world. It hit in just the right angles lacing every surface in a light, glowy sheen. Ansem didn't join me to soak in the radiance and vitamin D, but I kind of expected him not to. However, after a while, I was pleasantly shocked when he eventually did. It wasn't for the sun, of course. He just tends to linger in my area. Something tells me he likes knowing where I am.

Normally regular people who aren't tainted beyond normal people sense would choose activities such as sports, or picnics to enjoy the nice weather. Nope, nopity, nope, nope. Ansem and I played with darkness. Fun, right?

It's almost as fun as setting things on fire at random, and playing with matches. Or throwing objects through glass windows.

As always, Ansem was better at conjuring and whipping up stuff than I was, but nonetheless, it was pretty entertaining to sit on the chipping balcony with him (reeking havoc). Dangerous activities really do bring people together.

* * *

He drops down from a heavy pipe woven through the ceiling with the familiar _thunk_ of his decent. He wipes away sweat and sighs a deep, content sigh.

"Done already?" I like watching him flex at a distance. I was sad the show was over.

He leers at me rubbing his towel through the damp roots of his hair. "I wouldn't want to deplete all of my energy," he dips onto the bed to prowl over my legs. "I have major plans to attend to later this evening, dear. There must be a balance," he inches upward towards my face gradually lowering himself.

"No, don't lay on me!" I try to barrel roll onto my stomach. Try.

"Why not? I show enough tolerance to allow you to lay on me. Surely you can return the gesture," he growls in his throat keeping me from twisting and turning away.

Heavily, he makes himself comfortable on top of me. His face presses against my neck. I can feel the tip of his nose brush against my collar bone. If it weren't for the fact that this felt good, I'd put up more of a protest.

"You are _heavy_, Ansem, and sweaty,"

"Those are just excuses to deny me. Doesn't matter now," he hums pressing the soft vibration into tender kisses along my jaw line. His heated breathing wafts gently over the gully of my chest giving me goose bumps.

"You're still sweaty," I scrunch my nose, even though he doesn't stink. I rub the back of his neck and his thick shoulders. His firm, russet skin is moist and hot where I touch. I remove caught clumps of his coarse hair letting the long strands slip through the spaces of my fingers, and to the side out of the way.

"Deal with it," he chuckles darkly tracking timid, feverish kisses past the soft spot under my ear and down my neck. He nods up every now and again to brush against my lips and cheeks.

"Stop," I squeal when he tends the more sensitive areas of my neck "that tickles!"

"No," he wedges his face into where my neck meets my shoulder. I squirm and cringe with high pitched laughter. His large, warm hands rub my sides after my undershirt shirt failed to stay put in all of my fighting. The meeting of the different textures and temperatures add to the war, of which, I lose. Ansem's not ticklish any where but the insides of his thighs. Not only can I not reach there, but I am not that bold.

Slowly his sweet pecking turns into long drawn out grazes. The last of my giggles are muffled into soft whimpers. He leans into me tentatively shoving his arms under my back. We are one limb away from cradling, and two away from a cuddle.

His lips part forming open mouth kisses against my skin. Instinctively, he laps and sucks at my pulse earning a few mewls of delight. The tip of his long, wet tongue leaves a hot trail setting spark to all of my wires. But, just as I begin to melt completely, his body goes rigid and he stops.

"What's wrong?" I whine already missing the attention.

He doesn't tell me. He looks up and out to the space of the large bedroom. He squints with an expression I can't read.

"Nothing," he rolls prudently to the side and off of the bed. He leverages himself up and walks.

"Where are you going?" I am disappointed. I was enjoying that.

"To the kitchen. I'm hungry," he yawns.

I grumble deciding that I'll stay here in his room. I'm not quite ready to get up but, I should. He probably has something for me to do today.

Plus, I think I need to change my underwear.

* * *

She's organizing books again. He's compulsive (by nature) and dislikes to see them out of place for too long. She climbs up and down the ladders dusting debris from her buttoned corset every now and again. Some of the higher shelves haven't been tended to in a long time.

Deep evening rays of light flood through the high cracked windows depicting the setting sun beyond their glass. A lamp is lit bellow. It becomes harder for her to see. She has twelve more books to put back in their proper places, but she's making process. Really, she doesn't mind as long as she isn't sent out to another world.

"Be a good girl," he told her.

"Okay," she had replied "I'll try,"

Not as hard to ignore the morsels of things to stick her interest in. There are too many good looking books to read at one time. There's even a restricted section (of which she would look at more later).

The last of her task is finished as the final spine is slipped in with a full row of others. She huffs patting her hands to rid the dust. She notices something odd when she checks over her work.

She zones in sitting on her knees to look at the end of the dark encyclopedia series. Two finger prints and a black piece of paper juts out from the pages. Ever so curiously, she removes number 33 from its place.

"That's right," she remembers this volume. "Kingdom Hearts,"

She opens it to a blank page. Unusual. She snatches the black note from the wedge. She reads the familiar lacy handwriting.

_**Your green heart knows the door, curious lass. You know without knowing. Keep the darkness close, but for your own good, keep the one who gave it even closer... I now know your deepest, most wretched desires and so shall the nonexistent enemy. He's watching even when you aren't. **_

She stuffs the note in her pocket.

She's worried. Something's up, and she can't ignore it any longer.

* * *

"Ansem?" she watches him settle beside her. The bed creaks lightly under his extra weight. She rubs her sleep fogged eyes. The ache in her chest ebbs away as soon as she forgets the nightmare.

"I am fine. Go back to sleep," he grunts.

"I need to know something,"

"And what could that be, dear?"

"What am I to you?" she bites her lip and looks for some sort of reaction.

He pauses forming the words in his head. The answer is simple because it needs no further explanation. He stares at her from the tinted smolder of his eyes.

"You are Phoebe,"

"Is that it?" she smiles despite herself. It takes her worry away, if only for now to hear his opinion.

"What did you want to hear?"

"I don't know?"

"You are Phoebe. You are mine. Happy?"

"Yes, Ansem," she tampers with the solid ring on her finger.

**Author's note:**

**Most likely the next chapters will be changed to M due to content. **

**R&R! **


	23. Forever

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 23: Forever

There was no longer a reason to keep it going. He got his result. Perhaps it was a little more than what he bargained for. He could carry on with that seeing as nothing was lost.

The experimental file is finished, and put of to the side on the oversized computer.

Satisfied he leaves and joins his old test subject in bed.

* * *

Where was she? She didn't know.

The grass and brush beneath her bare feet prickles coolly at her toes. Rubbing her misty eyes she takes in more of her surroundings. A tropical canopy above extends upward to an unnaturally black night sky. A warm earthy breeze rolls against her exposed skin ruffling her underwear, and whispering a dead silence. Unsure of what exactly to do, she walks wearily into the dark vortex of vegetation. The thick palms and leaves reach out encompassing a shadowy passage. Like a train tunnel she can only catch the flickering of light at the very end.

She keeps her breathing low. Her eyes dart in all directions. It's too quite in what appears to be a jungle and the sensation of being watched tugs at her intuition. On her toes she avoids a swag of thorns and stickers covering the way to her exit. Stepping over the obstacle she finds herself in a wide clearing. Taking a moment to adjust her eyes and panties, she tempts cautiously towards a podium built right at the center. A huge metal cage sits on the intricately designed (it reminded her of aztec carvings) stand with something equally as large on the inside.

She edges up to it using discarded stones to give her some height. Wiggling flames from standing torches aid her in observing the creature. Curious to know what it is she stands on her tippy toes and sets trembling hands near the bottoms of the thick bars. An enormous lump of coal black fur shifts and turns to her. She squints still unknowing as to what it is.

"My my, I have a visitor," it snarls in its deep rumbling voice. She holds her breath at the tone's familiarity. The beasts piercing, intimidating tangerine eyes glow from the deep depths of its hefty cage.

It stands on all fours exhibiting an impressive height. Its thick paws catch the light and she can finally see it as it comes into the illumination near her side of the cage. There is something human-anthro-about its limbs and structure. The large front legs prowl like muscled arms, and its feet are spread out like clawed, padded hands.

"What are you?" she breathes.

"You tell me," he chuckles wickedly, and begins to pace rubbing himself against the metal.

She gasps as his appearance changes from shadow to shadow. From one side she sees a Jaguar with the fresh blood of fuchsia hearts dripping from his harp teeth, and as he elegantly turns into the shadows, and emerges again, she sees the beast's feline features shift. The snout and whiskers elongate into a long muzzle; the face of a fierce wolf and a body to match. The fur loses its smooth lay down and turns thick.

It continues as he moves from one side to the other, though, his potent eyes always stay the same.

"Gone silent, dear?" He coos arching his large back. "I'm not very much to look at,"

"I don't agree," she whispers mystified.

"Well while you're here, make yourself useful and let me out. Won't you?" He curls his lips exposing a sharp sinister smile.

As if in a trance she does as he asks. Her eyes never lose their hypnotic lock on his. The screaming in the back of her mind tells her to deny, but she's so intrigued by his poise that it goes unheard. The unsnapping of the wedge keeping the beast prisoner echoes in the quite clearing, and almost immediately she regrets having done so.

The door swings open and snaps off the hinge under the crushing pressure of a black paw. The flames standing attention go out completely only allowing her to see faint outlines of his massive figure. She scurries back creating as much distance from the cage as possible.

He stretches sighing through a blood curdling growl. A heavy _thump_ is created as his body hits the ground.

"I should thank you," he licks his teeth. "but I've been alone for so long, and I'm so _very_ famished,"

Her heart pounds hot at realization. _He's the one thing she should have been afraid of._ She takes one more step backwards inching silently to a get away. Her throat closes into a painful burn.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

"You're the only thing here, so you'll just have to do. I must say, you look rather delectable. Look how ripe, and plump, and sweet you are" he trots low, stalking; ready to pounce on his new prey. The demonic roar that rips from his throat freezes the blood in her veins. The two toned sound splits between the bellow of a Jaguar and the baying snarl of a wolf.

She prepares to dart.

"Where are you going, dear?" The shifting creature cackles as it becomes feline in another pool of dark shadow.

She runs.

The thorns rip painfully at her soft skin tearing into red, bloody gases. She hisses as the pain sparks in her flesh. Tears well at the edges of her eyes, but she continues to run for her life. The strap of her bra snaps at a poking branch. There is no time to mind her garments. The beast is not far behind. Its heavy steps become closer and closer and closer. By now trepidation is seeping through her very pores. He can smell it; track it through the air.

Pushing her short legs faster she leaps haphazardly over a low branch brisling past palms and large leaves. Another yowl makes her stomach lurch. Her breathing quickens as she panics. Though her eyes have long adjusted, it's dark and everything that looks remotely black appears as if it is out for her. Tears stream down her face as she comes to another dead end. A high brick wall prevents her escape, and her hands and feet are too bloody to crawl up.

"No, no Phoebe," it swaggers from the dim thicket appearing to her as the big bad wolf. The twitch it its tail intensifies as its sets its human like body low. Its spread paws hold a strong position under its wide muscular chest. Seeing no other way, she summons her whip. The beast pounces again. She cracks it across its muzzle. He falters whining, swaying on its long hind legs holding his cut face in his hand-like paws. Angered he rushes again. Her legs wobble under her as she tries to hold off his snapping fangs. She screams as he snags her thick thigh and tears greedily in. Blood pours from the deep puncture wounds coating leaves and grass.

The pop of the cord sends a shock wave of sound that fends him off again agitating the beast more. As he steadies himself, she tries her hardest to crawl away. But, it's too late when he lunges again.

His body progresses from a jaguar in mid air

_Surely he'll eat her heart_ _first_ _to appease his appetite _

to a canine

_Perhaps he'll simply drag her to his den to keep_

and as his large form pins her down, she opens her eyes to the face of a man.

The world fades to black as the icy, inky, clawing hands pin her in place. His eyes gleam as he ravages her body, and licks, and suckles the soft love and dark devotion from her green heart.

* * *

When I wake up. I'm staring the man in his face.

He blinks at me lazily supposedly unaware of my nightmare. He quirks a silvery eyebrow at my horrified expression.

"Morning," he slurs.

I don't say anything back. I'm still trying to calm myself down. He stares briefly analyzing my twinge stricken body.

He pokes me in the center of my chest without warning. "Still alive in there?"

I wince. "Ouch!"

Lethargically I sit up next to him. With a cool hand I whisk sweat away from my forehead, neck, and creases of my arms. When I sigh it comes out as a wheeze due to the pain in my chest.

"Seeing your condition, how would you like to join me?" he rolls over and lifts up on his arms. The sheets of the bed are pulled away as he stalks over me and off the other side.

"Join you for what?"

He struts into the bathroom pulling of his boxer briefs in the process.

* * *

"Don't look!"

"Don't be so paranoid. I'm not looking," I lie. I'm looking.

I watch her slip into the hot bath water. She clutches her arms to cover her bare chest and settles herself timidly at the opposite end of the large tub. She opens her eyes to the toiling water shrinking in on herself.

"Something bothering you?" I question spreading my legs comfortably to either side. My knees are barely visible above the water. I lean back and prop my elbows, and forearms on the rim.

She clears her throat. She looks to the side, purposely turning her sight away from down through the water.

"I'm fine," she nervously lathers a soaking wet towel with soap.

"I don't buy it. You seem rather stirred. Anything you would like to share?" I brush a leg against her thigh and she jumps. I keep an amused smile at bay.

"I don't think you would like to hear about my nightmares," she begins to scrub her neck and shoulders, folding her legs in close.

"Oh, is that what has been troubling you? Don't fret. The nightmares will become alike having normal dreams. You won't notice the difference,"

"I really wish that would happen sooner," she mumbles feebly.

"The more control you have the easier it will become. Darkness can be mastered," I lean in grabbing her calves under the balmy water. She splashes back with a screech pressing her thighs tight together and getting her hair unintentionally wet. She covers her breasts with her arms willing not to look me in the eye. Swaying water laps at our edges. I rub the tops of her knees lingering on her thighs.

"Relax," I whisper in her ear. I ghost my lips across the cartilage; tongue rolling lavishly against the shell. She gives me a whimper.

After a long while of soaking, placating, and caressing her in silence I decide its time to leave. I still had things to do. She covers her eyes when I stand.

"Just because _you_ looked doesn't mean _I_ will," she grumbles.

"Whatever makes you feel better,"

* * *

After the long day of being obedient (which tends to be a challenge for her) she is content with sitting in his company in the late evening. His lap is warm, and his deep woods scent is inviting. Her cheek rests against his bare shoulder pushing up slightly on her eye. The muscles in his right arm twitch with his constant writing. It was a continuous task for someone such as himself. His day in and day out quest for knowledge never bothered her much; not even when he remained awake for days. A tired sigh graces his neck from her lips as she focuses her attention to the matchless ring on her finger.

"He thought I was your wife you know,"

"Who?" he murmurs. She listens to the sound of his voice from within his chest.

"The man from earlier today. The advisor to that sultan. What was his name Ja- something?"

"He though we were wedded?"

"Yes. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of when with it. He was giving me weird looks,"

He hums. The bottom of his chin rubs past her hair. "I would think that you'd be weary of having me for a husband," he bites his pen in concentration and skims through a book.

"_That's_ an understatement. But, if I can put up with you now, sure, I could do it then,"

"You'd marry me? What on earth would be your motivation to say yes?" He stops his favorite activity and sets his inquisitive attention on her.

"To put it simply, I like you, Ansem," she takes a deep breath leaping out on her words. She lifts a leg to straddle his lap and sets hands on both sides of his neck. "In fact, I like you so much; I think I might love you,"

He sets his hands on her waists giving her a genuinely dumbstruck facial expression. His eyebrows scrunch and his head tilts as her stares. "Love?" he says it as if he's trying the word out for the first time letting it roll of the tip of his tongue. "I don't follow,"

She smiles chastely. "I love you, as to say I'll brave you even when you're mean and evil," she pinches his nose playfully.

"I don't understand…," he tries to wrap his mind around it, and finds that he can't.

"Neither do I,"

"And you realize I can not do the same?"

"Yes, but deep, deep, deep, down in all that _dark_, I know you want to. Ansem, won't you be my Sir Greendown?"

The innocent kiss that is shared pulses passion into amplifiers, and ignites both of their nerves. It doesn't take too long before it turns sweltering and ravenous. Tongues flick and glide against each other, and teeth click between heavy panting. His research is shortly abandoned. He lifts her up and away from the study. Walls are bumped into along the way pinning her as he timorously grabs handfuls of her behind giving generous squeezes.

Gasps and groans trail into his bedroom all the way to his awaiting bed.

The deep moans echo off the walls.

**Author's Note:**

**And so the simple servant was a servant no more~! **

**I was going to make this chapter M, but since the next has more **_**details**_** in store that shall be when this fanfiction is rerated. **

**If anyone has insight on Phoebe's dream I am more than happy to hear your thoughts.**

**R&R!**


	24. Fucking Deep In

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 24: Fucking Deep In

She arches in excitement the moment her back hits the mattress.

The urges to touch and feel everything are overwhelming. Shudders tingle in her muscles as he climbs on top to straddle her waist. She strokes his thighs, feeling the tensing power in his limbs. The hungry kisses deepen as he subtly squeezes her legs in between his. His hefty weight traps her underneath, but she wants him even closer. As he lies down she eagerly wriggles to wrap herself snugly around his torso.

"Ansem...," she whines lifting her arms to caress his shoulders. He's nipping and lapping at her neck, and when he bites he leaves his mark; quick to savor the taste of her blood. She'll bruise in the morning.

He groans against her grazing his lips past the hollow column of her neck, down into the gully of her breasts. He riddles her with wet, searing kisses on the soft, pillowy tops nodding up every now and again to nibble on her collar bones. Her hands run through the warm roots of his grayish hair coaxing him to press himself further against her.

She can feel his heavy breathing; the rough surface of his large hands snaking up her night gown. She gives a timid tug at the end and pulls the article of clothing up and off over her head. It falls to some random place on the floor. Skin now rubs against bare skin. The pudgy plane of her stomach grades into the ridges of his defined torso heating into a pleasurable friction. Returning to her face he gives her another sultry, drawn out kiss moaning deeply into her mouth and rolling his tongue along the insides of her cheeks.

Sizzling arrows shoot down his spine, through his stomach, and straight towards the pit of his groin. The hot hardness of himself is pinned to his thigh throbbing ever so painfully. He can't control his bucking hips as he grinds into her where it's so very warm. She gasps breathing in when he breathes out.

"Here, let me," she offers him in an airy sigh.

Her fingers sink down behind the hem of his pants. She trails over his hip bones in search of his belt buckle. When found, she nervously un-snaps it, loosens the leather in the loops, and slides the black fabric down his firm legs. He yanks off the rest tossing it to an unknown area in the room. A sizable and incredibly noticeable tent has formed in the dead center of his underwear. From down between his legs, she pears up to his face; coyly looking him in his eyes. His pupils are dilated and glazed over in their glimmer.

"Come here," his voice is low and demanding.

She pushes herself up on her knees following as he does. His open arms welcome her onto his lap; that 'hard thing' rubbing against her stomach. She stands upon her knees rising as much as she can to match his sitting height, but settles with being able to kiss his neck and chest rather than his face. He purrs wrapping his brawny arms around her waist and grips her behind. He hums against her forehead through her purple bangs.

"Ansem...," she trails.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm afraid," she traces the lines of his abdominal muscles with her finger tips savoring the texture of his firm russet skin. She lets a finger linger on the trail of wirery hair peaking faintly under his belly button. Softly, she sucks at his Adams apple.

"You don't have to be afraid. Tell me want you want," using the palm of his hand he pushes in her behind molding her hips perfectly against his.

"I want you,"

"Then you can have all of me, dear. And I will get you in return?"

"Yes," she's so quick to answer.

"And you'll submit to me, completely?"

"I already have,"

"Then _all _of you is _mine_,"

Such a rush. There is no time to pay attention and before she has a chance to adjust to being pinned pack down to the sheets, he's stuffed a mound of pillows behind her back and ripped off the last of their undergarments. Everything around them becomes a cold burn. The background in her field of vision turns murky. The dark swirls fill in the edges, but she's to entranced in his heat to care.

Knocked snugly between the insides of her thighs, he adjusts- awkwardly at first- his grip on the soft pockets of fat on the outsides. He gives her a side ways look starring below into her drowsy brown eyes.

"Something wrong?" She pants.

"No, not at all," unsure of himself his nudges a finger against that warm area between her legs. She whimpers at the intrusion letting herself squirm. No one's ever touched her there before.

"Here...?" He rubs gingerly against a stiff, moist, little nub. He's pleased when she mewls.

"No...Here," reaching down, she guides his hand to where it's hollow and wet.

Soon he's back to her face showering her with hard kisses. When she's distracted he thrusts in without warning.

"_Ugh-!_"

He silences her with an open mouthed kiss. A smirk spreads pulling at the edges of his lips. What a pleasant surprise.

"When you told me you worked in Burlesque," he watches her cringe "I thought you might of taken clients," waiting patiently for her to adjust to his girthy size.

"No, I wanted to dance. Nothing else. Other women tended to the shady guests," tears gather at the corners of her eyes and threaten to spill over. The sensation of being filled so completely makes her body ache, if only for a short while.

"Well, this makes two of us. And, here I thought I'd be the only one without experience," he chuckles deviously admitting to his lack of know how. He sways slightly growing anxious the more he waits. "I'm not exactly the man to chase after females. Well, unless I was going to rip their hearts out," he muses.

"Ansem, you're ruining it," she stifles a chortle between her teeth. On a rarity he makes her laugh at the most unconventional things.

"Am not," Muscles relax around him, and he takes this a grant to move. He allows instinct to merely take over.

The languid thrusts die her sounds of humor into barely audible moans. He groans kissing her cheeks, and cupping a breast in one hand. She rocks with him doing her best to match his pace even when the grinding becomes rapid; nerve-racking. (What would she do without the pillows behind her back?)

She's so quiet writhing in the spark only he can set on her body. Those little noises are all for him, as if he's the only one who can detect them.

_"Don't stop,"_ it comes out as a whisper against his ear.

The progressive loving rattles the bones under her skin, rolls her eyes to the back of her head, lasting forever and a day.

_"Please, don't stop,"_ and he doesn't even when she comes to, gripping on to his shoulders for dear life. He grunts and nudges affectionately, pushing past her satisfaction, so he could also gain his own. Several moments later and she feels him dissolve hot on her insides.

They'd wake up later just to do it all over again.

* * *

"You seem nice n' happy this morning," the familiar scent of cigarette smoke comes into contact with the outside air around me. I look over.

"Me?" I can't help but smile. Cid must be bored. He's come to survey people lazing about the square.

"Yes ma'am. I know ah bright smile when I see one. Whatcha been up, too?"

"Nothiiing," I stick my tongue out between my teeth and continue to shop trying to stop myself from giggling. The washing soap I purchased last time made my skin itch, so I went out for a different brand. I also need to stock up on a couple of items before my venture today (Ansem sends me out even when he's in a good mood).

"I'll take yer word for it," he's chewing on the end of a tooth pick today. He kind of looks weird. You know without his cigarette. "You headin' over to the moogle?" He rubs his stub covered chin. The smile on his face is an amused one.

"Yes, sir," I flash him some of my teeth. I really, really can't help it.

"Well then I hope you can bargain. The son of ah gun raised his damn prices," he looks on as I shuffle through some crystals.

"Again?" I puff taking a moment to count all of my munny. "I guess I won't be able to get all that I need to. He almost cleaned me out last time when I wanted to synthesize some stuff from a few recipes,"

"I don't blame em though," Cid gruffs.

"Why is that?" I tuck my munny pouch away.

"Heartless are nappin' merchandise. Happens all the time," he crosses his large hairy arms. "That's why they leave stuff everywhere, and when it can't be replaced, he has to make up for the loss,"

"I see," I shrug my shoulders. "Thanks for the info, Cid," looks like I'll have to cut corners for some potions.

"No problem. Stay out of trouble little lady,"

With that we part. I leave immediately for a different world as soon as I'm far from anyone's watch. After much practice summoning a corridor comes as a second nature. I nonchalantly walk through.

* * *

I have only been to this world once before. I liked how it felt this homey little place drenched in sun kissed twilight. The name fit of course; Twilight Town. The sky here never grew old.

I was sent here only to survey key areas. Heartless ran rabid through street corners, or stalked through the air. Thankful they sensed my darkness and assumed I was an ally. I really wasn't in the mood for a fight, and it seemed, that neither were they. Today must be a lazy afternoon for everyone. Good, cause I can't wait to hurry up and go 'home'.

I needed to rake around the woods. Though, Ansem never told me what I was supposed to be looking for. The rhythmic click of my hills against the orange stone pavement drowns my thoughts. I should probably ask around if I wanted to know where I was going.

"Thank you," I wave at a group of children barely in their teens. A chubby boy (he was very sweet and told me his name was Pence), a blondie-boy in camo, and a little girl with brown pig tails told me where I could find the hidden entrance to the woods. When they asked me why I wanted to go, I gave the excuse that I was going to look for wildlife. They took it as a valid answer and trotted back off to their after school activities. When I left the sandlot they were arguing with some macho and his posse. Supposedly, someone was cheating in a game of ball, but I wasn't really paying that much attention.

Ah, kids.

It's like a completely different place when I slip behind the small hole in the brick wall. It's dim due to the spread canopy blocking light from reaching the ground below. The trees cast long enclosing shadow after shadow. I almost break a heel when I trip on a sudden, unseen dug-out in the ground. I squint at an opening of light way at the end dusting dirt and leaves from my legs.

"Uh, maybe I should see what's down there,"

The end of the woods opens up to a clear walk way with a tall, heavy, locked gate. Behind the gate is a mansion. It looks kind of like a grave yard. This better not end in some kind of zombie attack, because I swear if it does. I don't like, or work with spooky.

"I bet I have to go inside," I mumble. That's not a lock I can pick. "Better hop the fence," I haven't climbed a fence since I was fifteen in search of a good swimming pool. But, I've still got it! I monkey up the large bars, and land on my feet on the other side. I could have used a corridor, but that wouldn't have been fun. In to the dark, creepy building I go.

* * *

She tugs about nervously in the dimly lit lobby of a room. She looks around examining objects every few foot falls. You watch her. She's not sure it's safe to go anywhere. At one point it looks as if she will go up the stairs, and in the other she changes her mind weary as to what might be waiting for her at the top. You continue to observe her as she attempts to make up her mind. You know what she might be looking for, and what her keeper might want. It's odd though, the inhabitant of this building, of whom you know well, is not here.

"You won't find what you think you are looking for at ground level," you announce. Your deep voice echoes. In the time it takes her to face you you've already came into two feet of her space; an arm lift away from touching. She's at a loss for words. You can see your reflection in her brown eyes. Caught of guard and surprised she backs herself into the glass casing in the center of the foyer.

"He wants you to gather something for him. Is that correct?" You question her. You can feel her studying your exposed face.

She frowns incredulously. "I'm not sure, maybe I'll get back to you when I find out," she nervously tries to step around and away from you, but you cut her off with an arm; resting your hand on the glass.

"I wonder. How is it that you can trust him?" She shirks to the side inching the other way.

"Who are you talking about?"

"You know who I'm speaking of. Phoebe is it?"

"Maybe," she won't give you her name exactly, "Who are you and what do you want?" She twitches as your gloved hand observantly pulls at the ends of her hair.

"I am Xemnas, and all I crave is to...chat," you see the realization move the expression on her face. She has heard your name before.

"I'm sorry Xemnas, but I don't have time,"

"My question," you edge. "How can you trust him?" she slips under your arm and pads to the left stair case. You follow silently.

"He hasn't hid anything from me. I don't see any reason why I shouldn't,"

"Ahhh, are you so sure?" you narrow your eyes.

"What are you getting at?" She takes a step. One hand is laid on the railing.

"Your _lover_ hasn't shared _everything_ with you. Have you ever pondered why you are so riddled with darkness? I could shed some light on your dilemma,"

She stops and turns to you. Her eyes are wide with your knowing choice of words.

"I…,"


	25. I Do

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 25: I Do

"Bring it to me," Ansem holds out his large hand in the assumption that I retrieved what he never told me I was supposed to look for. But, I do have it, and I give it to him rather tiredly.

I have something on my mind.

"Don't you have enough books?" I stretch and sigh. He looks over the hard covers and papers I got him with a critical eye.

"No," he says bluntly, but I suppose that preference isn't a bad thing. Hey, he reads. Can't argue with that.

"Anything else?" I ask him. Please say no. I'm hungry, tired, and all I want to do now is lay down.

"No," he sets the books I had taken down on his desk.

Hallelujah!

"But, seeing as you are here now fixing something up this afternoon would be highly appreciated," he drawls.

Ughhhh. I have a feeling that this is a demand rather a simple suggestion.

"Alright," I suppose cooking something isn't too much of a strain. I'll do it if it will keep him content.

Business has been dell with, so he moves to walk past me and out the door. I start to follow after him, but he stops halfway, and turns to me. I grow nervous.

There is something in his fiery eyes. He pauses almost confused as he samples the air through his nose; tracking it to me. He then takes a piece of the ends of my hair through his gloved hand, holds the purple strands to his flaring nostrils, and frowns the hardest frown I have ever seen him muster.

Uh oh.

"Who was there," he spits backing me aggressively into the wall. He shuts both of the study's doors. I break into a cold sweat.

"He said his name was Xemnas," I wince as he crushes me against hard metal with his body weight. I try to protectively turn my head to the side, but he clutches my chin securely in place so that I look him in his face.

Venom gleams in his features at the sound of the name. "What did he want, hmm?" Ansem growls, raising his voice.

"He only told me where I could find what I was looking for," I answer through hurting teeth, and an aching jaw line.

"If you value your well being, Phoebe, you'll stay away from him. Do you understand?" there is ferocity in his words. I understand. All I can do is shake my head.

"Good," he breathes and we stare at each other. The acid still drips from his bared teeth. I rub his stomach gingerly, coaxing him into letting me go. But, as I do I can't stop myself from leaking a question.

"What is it about you and him?"

He glowers. "History," is all I get. "Now, come. No more questions. My mood has been soiled,"

I stay quiet, but I'm still thinking.

What kind if history does Ansem and Xemnas have? Who exactly is Xemnas, and what does he want with me?

I'd find out sooner or later.

* * *

The bellowing voices of a choir of men echo strong in the towering cathedral. Their mosaic tunes are followed by the high pitched accompaniment of women, and the pluck of a piano. Sickening laughter of highly perched heartless-as if they were gargoyles- flows on the polished walls and stained glass windows. She walks dazed at first, down the isle. Someone is holding her arm. Maleficent, clutching the crease of her elbow tight, guides her past the church pews. She's shocked, but confused when the witch gives her a wink, and a reassuring squeeze.

What is this?

Black rose pedals litter the thin strip of carpet stretched out in front of her. A little girl with velvety red hair and blue eyes sprinkles them in front from a basket. The long flow of a white-corset dress covers her legs. She then notices the veil covering her face from view, and the bouquet of roses in her sweaty hands. She is nervous. Why?

And then it clicked.

This is a wedding.

She is the wedding bride.

Before she knows it her arm is let go. The veil is lifted from her eyes by the most handsome man she's ever seen. _Her man._ Clad in an all black suit and bow, he flashes her his same malevolent smile shaping the evil she had come to love.

"You look beautiful, dear," he takes her small hands in his.

The words to reply won't come. She wants to cry, but she isn't sad, she can't even tell if she's happy because her heart is so overwhelmed. She sees her mother and father (but mostly her mother's dramatic crying), all the other people she recognizes, and some of the people she thinks she knows sitting in the vast wooded rows. Then there are the floating faces of imps looking on like mindless, blood thirsty zombies. They're waiting for the end. Of her wedding, or was it something else? Their sharp amused smiles where disturbing. It pricked fear at the back of her mind. Her groom saw this, and sparked an expression that told her "not to worry about them".

Then she casts a small gaze on the groomsmen. She knows none, but the best man. Paranoid, a boy with silver hair and sea green eyes stands to the groom's side almost too young to be there. The men that follow after him range in height and body types. A red head here, a man with blue hair and a face scar there, a rather large man with dreads, a blonde with a deck of cards in his front breast pocket, etc. She felt like she should know them. But, how could she when she had never seen their faces before? It was the same for the bridesmaids.

The pastor lifts his head to reveal his face, and after a pause for silence, begins to speak.

_Dearly Beloved..._

_We are gathered here today..._

She bottles in her shock, because she knows who the pastor is; neatly dressed with a white square at his collar. A bible is held, and poised in his upturned, spread hand. Xemnas continues, they all continue, but she can hardly focus on anything around her. She keeps starring into her husband-to-be's eyes; those demonically _beautiful_ eyes.

Time skips ahead in a sinister blur. A vintage sheen glazes her eyes over and quickens her already erratic heartbeat.

The ring bearer; another boy she recognizes with bounce, messy, spiked brown hair. He's holding _her ring_.

Slowly but surely comes the moment of truth, choking away all other answers to the question she knows is coming.

_"Do you take this man in death for the rest of your unnatural life?" _

Xemnas' profound voice booms with sinister majesty. A smile carves its way onto his face as he looks at the couple with a gleam she doesn't understand.

_"I do," _

It's as if the words leap out of her bubbling a brew of darkness in her heart and bursting towards the surface of her body and soul. Hot tears threaten to ruin her make-up.

_"Do you take this woman in death for the rest of your unnatural life?" _

_**"I do," **_

The words rip from her groom's throat like a deep, demanding, and wicked purr. He moves closer and they look at each other so hard that they may have been able to pear into each others' souls.

_"I now pronounce you," _

The kiss her groom locks her in burns deliciously down her throat. The room air turns thick like ice and darker than darkness itself. Those hovering gargoyles become restless; their mindless cackling growing louder and louder." The master has a bride," they chant and spew. Her pure white dress blotches until it's entirely black, and the background fades away into a pelting rain that would never grow wet.

_**"You and I will live forever. Let's start the killing," **_her demon whispers in her ear touching her with sin; warming her thighs under his large hands.

Screaming.

And this time, she _loves_ it.

* * *

Thoughts still linger heavily on my conscience as I do my after-shower rituals. I lather cocoa butter on to my skin, of which, is a slightly darker shade than I remember. But, that's only one of the few things the darkness has changed. I asked Ansem if my eyes would ever be like his, but he told me no. He likes them brown. I laugh quietly to myself ebbing away the pain that still lingers in my chest. It's been starting to hurt more and more. I wonder when it will pass. The darkness gets worse before it gets better, so I press on still allowing myself to hope. Though, one thing has changed.

My dreams. I recall the one I had last night with such vivid detail. Was it a nightmare or something much better? Ansem was right. I can't tell the difference anymore. It all feels the same. But, it felt so real. Maybe I wish it was real.

Everything floats back to Xemnas. I remember our encounter yesterday. I did not tell Ansem (and for a good reason) that he told me a bit more than where I could find the office books.

_If you really want to know try browsing the computer..._

I don't know whether or not I can trust that. I don't even know what he meant. What computer? But, I'm curious. I hate that I am. What exactly is he 'hiding'?

Aren't I supposed to trust the ones I love? And I do. I love Ansem so much.

The lotion soaks smoothly into my skin. Pulling on my clothes, I strut out of the bathroom. Ansem looks up at as I emerge and lifts his hand to form a corridor of darkness.

"Done?" He seems rather impatient this morning.

"Yes, do we have to go?" I pout. I would rather us both stay here and lay in bed (since we do a little bit more there than just sleep).

He gives me strict look. His mood hasn't improved since yesterday. He wouldn't even fool around with me last night. Hopefully that'll change, or I'll have to change it myself.

"Come, Phoebe," He steps through the murky black depths and swirling tresses.

"Coming," please let this go by quickly. I fix my bow tie and follow reluctantly through the corridor with him.

* * *

"So, are we going to meet with Hades, or are we going to the coliseum," I've been to this world many times before. He probably dragged me a long to be guide. It's one of the few worlds that change my wardrobe. Which is kind of why I like it. "Ansem?" I look around, but I don't see him…at first. The muses dress gets caught in one of the straps of my sandals. I bend down to set the fabric free and went I stand up straight I met with one heck of a surprise.

"Don't say a word," If I thought the frown he had yesterday was an unhappy one, it was nothing compared to the scowl he had now.

Ansem emerges from a thicket noticeably taller than he already is. I'm puzzled as he glares at me. "What?" At first I think he might be naked when I see the top of his completely bare body through the thick bushes. But then, he reveals more of himself, and believe you in me, if I was drinking water at the time I would have spat it all out.

"You're a centaur!" I gasp and sputter into an uncontrollable laughter. It was apparent that Ansem had never ventured to the Olympus coliseum inside the city of Thames. Oh god. This is rich. I'm never going to let him live this down. He trots uncomfortable to me with all four of his long, black Clydesdale legs. He stands next to me his tail in a twitch, his arms prudently crossed, and a timid rustle in the strong muscles of his strong body.

"Don't mock me, woman. We're leaving, _now_," he sorts and turns swiftly on his hocks cantering the opposite way of where we are supposed to be going.

"No, no, no! We just got here, big boy," I block his way, and he stomps a pair of front hoofs.

"Move, we are leaving," he hisses.

"And stand up Hades? I don't think so," I push him near his lower stomach on the man part of his body. He backs up awkwardly trying to work his way around me. Frustrated, his swats my hand away from his bronze skin. He twitches at his withers.

"I do not want to negotiate appearing as _this_," he spins in a graceful circle gesturing to "his body". His hooves make crescent patters in the soft earth.

"You don't have much of a choice," I put my hands on my hips and look directly up at him.

"Fine," today must not be his day.

"At least you look…_sturdy_," I bite my finger nail.

"Not now," he growls walking heavily at my side as I lead the way into the vast and fast-paced city.

"You know, I've always wanted a pony," I slur suggestively stroking the soft, shiny coat.

"Phoebe," he seethes like he'll kick.

"You'll let me ride you, right?" That's me. Still being suggestive.

"_Phoebe_,"

"I'm kidding, sheesh,"

* * *

Now, let's not lie to ourselves. Hades can crack a good joke.

"So what says the man with the horse's ass?" he struts through the passages of his underworld. I try to follow his and Ansem's conversation.

I die on the insides because as much as I want to laugh, I can't. Ansem is going to slaughter me when we return to Hollow Bastion. I can tell he's watching me smile and cover my mouth. When I snicker (loud, too) he turns to scowl at me. Hades isn't paying attention, though.

Oh boy it's not even past noon yet. Today shall be daunting.

**Author's Notes:**

**Not as much as I wanted to get done in this chapter, but I had to keep it within a number of pages. More shall be continued in the next!**

**I'm sorry Ansem, I couldn't resist the lovely opportunity. **

**R&R! **


	26. More

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 26: More

I prefer standing on two feet, not four. I'm going to disregard that that ever happened.

I will say that I was muddled in a rather disgruntled mood earlier this morning and the day before. But, you could say that my temperament has improved greatly, more or less.

Hades, as agitating as he is, shall make a great addition as a 'business partner' in my master plan. Through him I have acquired access into further reaches of darkness, and information along with a variety of other things. Of course, I won't fill him in on _everything_ I desire to accomplish and will sustain our neutral relationship for as long as he stays in my favor.

Thankfully the form I was burdened under was looked past (For that reason I will be sure to avoid visits to the Olympic arena) with small commentary. Though, I can not say the same for the woman. I was no laughing matter, but she rolled with Hades' so called jokes and had difficulty silencing her snickering.

Speaking of the woman...As all of my newest acquaintances have, Hades briefly questioned her purpose. I stated that she was of no importance to him, but I went on to explain that she was something of a _personal_ servant.

I roll my eyes. I know that cohorts from the many worlds form circles to gossip. Knowing Maleficent, I'm sure they all assume Phoebe is one of my more intimate relationships. But, I really don't have a care to give.

_They can deal with it. _

Upon mine, and the female's departure we were met with a road block; large heartless of which were not under my authority. I could not determine if this was a deliberate set up, or a simple band of heartless that did not understand their place. This could have just been my natural sense of suspicion, but nevertheless, I stood back and observed them approach. I understand I could have done something almost instantly to save time, but as I had said, I wasn't in the most paramount of moods.

The heartless did not challenge the darkness they detected in me. Naturally they went towards who appeared weaker. I glanced on in amusement at the woman's frustration. She called on my aid, but I did not come. Her anger and rage proved her worthy of fending off the predators and in the end made them bow down under her curiously superior influence. I was pleased by her flourishing fondness to darkness.

So much in fact, that this was one of the sole reasons my mood shifted.

She would have her reward.

* * *

"Novashadow are not easy creatures to control," he disrobes himself, but leaves his under coat and pants. I watch as he sets his boots down in their usual places and throws his gloves to his side table. I kick off my itchy stockings and tuck myself in a ball on the center of his large bed. I already changed.

I had a good laugh today but after an unexpected battle, I am tired. I hurt all over. At least I have cake to comfort me! I pick a fork at a warm slice of fluffy chocolate. I begin to eat it hastily because as soon as Ansem settles down I know he's going to take it from me.

"Hey!"

Too late.

He wolfs down what's left of my desert (which was a lot) as he winds down against the bed sheets and pillows.

"Were you listening?" He hooks an arm around my waist and yanks me against his side.

"Yeah...what about the Novashadow?" I frown. My poor chocolate cake! He's eating it all in my damn face.

"You ordered them to stop. It was your darkness that allowed this, dear,"

"Is that why you wouldn't help me?" I smack his arm, but he pays no heed to the expression of my 'fury'.

"Possibly," he smirks and sets the now cake-less plate down. I was going to bicker with him to pass the rest of the time we now had, but the idea is squashed when he picks me up by my hips and sets me right in his lap between his long legs.

"I think it is enough to celebrate," he dips his middle finger back onto the patter and drags it through a puddle of chocolate syrup.

"I've seen the way you _celebrate_," I squint "and I don't like it,"

"Oh, but I know you'll like this," he leers.

Oh god, what now?

I stare perplexed as he holds his chocolate covered finger out to me.

"What?"

"Lick it," he presses his chest against my back to lean in and kiss my temples.

"Oh," I sigh.

Apprehensively, I flick my tongue against the smooth tip of his ring finger erasing only half of the syrup there. He teems a kiss against my cheek as I slip the warm digit fully into my mouth and softly suck off the rest. When done, it's pulled out with a supple pop. He groans into my ear nibbling on the cartilage.

"You were such a good girl today. I'm proud," he whispers. One of his large, hot, rough hands slinks under my shirt and rubs my lower stomach. Finger tips tease lovingly at the elastic band of my underwear before slowly slinking under.

"Ughn," I clamp my legs together writhing in delight from the teasing nudges from his fingers. He cranes his neck to peck my shoulders and jaw. Rubbing attentively at a firming nub he makes me arch my back and moan. I hiss. Maybe it's wrong but it feels _so good_. He moves down slipping inside my body fingering softly; pumping in and out.

"Mmm, so wet," he bites my neck working against my clutching walls. His firm fingers manipulate me expertly exploring my insides. He was so oddly gentle.

"Yes" I plead. A shiver runs down my spine pooling into heat in my belly. He pushes up a little farther making me cringe at the ache and throb between my legs.

"You know you deserve this,"

* * *

You drank in her love feeding your guilty pleasure; your addiction. It twisted and swirled the deep depths of darkness buried in your broken soul pulsing into your body intensifying those already high testosterone levels. It satisfied—deeply—that affection thirsty man inside of you, and the heartless.

She was so accepting; of everything. You needed, wanted, craved her ever growing essence; growing into a fitting mate. A darkness to accommodate your own.

That body of hers when pressed flush and warm and soft and perfectly against your own made you doubt yourself. Oh, the evil, naughty, despicable things you wanted to do, but self control made you remind yourself. We don't want to do something you might regret later, even as unlikely as it was. You still had enough to be nice; to be considerate of the one you where so entranced by.

Yes, her body...

Her decadent heart...

Her soul...

All if it belonged to you, you only. She gave it; the words came out of her mouth through her soulful voice. No one was going to take your pleasure away.

And_, is it such a sin for you to take what was yours until the end of time_?

You thought not.

Oh, but they thought you'd toss her away as soon as you where done throwing her around, batting her with your paws like a ball of yarn. But, she's more than just a simple toy to be ripped up, chewed on, burned, and then tossed. No, this doll was special. Nothing would be as fitting as she. Flexible, able to maintain through wear and tear. Keep through you. And oh gods, could she handle all of you. All the pleasure you had to offer. The deep thrusts, the power, the heavy impact, the bruising. It turned you on the way she chose to fear you. Withstanding pain. Loving your sinful touch.

If you could reach down into the dark waters of yourself and pull out an ounce of humanity, (for you where sure there was absolutely none left) with whatever is brought forth, you would love her with it.

But, for now, the darkness would have to do. And, perhaps the extra room in her green heart.

It was all you both had.

Even through your deep thoughts you sustain the pleasure you hold on her quivering thighs.

Oh, but how you wanted to give her so much more.

* * *

Her vision is blurry and she rubs them to rid the fog. It's dark in the room, but the warmth from the sheets keeps her cozy where she is. She sighs. The lingering scent of sex mingles idly in the air as a reminder of what she had been doing a few hours ago. Though, she notices with the slightest hint of worry that her partner is not laying next to her.

Tired brown eyes scan lazily until they spot the luminance of light behind the bathroom door. Her senses come to a revelation. Someone didn't sound too well in there. Sighing, she rolls from the comforting covers and pulls on the nearest thing she can find in a pile on the bedroom floor. Ansem's undercoat will have to do, even it a little loosely. She clutches it over her bare body.

"Ansem?" The door gives way on the hinge through the light push of her hand. She squints and hisses. The hard light stings her eyes.

"Ansem-?"

"?"She gasps and darts to rub his back.

He heaves away nastily; emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet. She aids him the best she can scooping his hair in her hands and keeping it out of the way. It's disturbing to say the least. He gurgles ridding himself of something that doesn't seem like it was food once in the least. It's thick and inky, and smells far too sweet to be vomit.

"I'm fine...leave," he growls menacingly through a cough. His strong arms strain as the grips the side of the toilet bowl. He hacks what seems to be the last of it, what ever all of it is.

She stands rubbing between his thick shoulder blades. She's unsure of what exactly to do.

"Is there anyway I can help? Ansem, please tell me what's wrong,"

He glowers from the corner of his eye. "Nothing is wrong, Phoebe. I'm fine. I demand you go back to bed," he lets one hand go from the toilet rim and pushes her leg effectively moving her back towards the door.

"Alright," she fidgets hopelessly "but I'll be waiting for you," at first, she does as he intends her to and paces solemnly back to bed. But, an idea licks persistently at the back of her worried mind.

The Jar...

**Author's Notes:**

**Ahh, one more chapter closer to the climax! I hope you all have enjoyed it so far. **

**If you have any questions, or musings, or connects you'd like to point out please feel free to send me a message! You may also send me a message if you are interested in what Phoebe looks like.  
**

**R&R!**


	27. Baby

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 27: Baby

I think quietly to myself. I'm bothered deep in my mind, and I can't sleep. Ansem is worrying me, and not in the way he usually does. I think he might be sick. Can heartless become sick? What would make them sick in the first place? I ponder on it, but I'm ultimately going to have to read something in the encyclopedia to find out. I have my own little suspicions though.

It's late into the night; past one I'm pretty sure (then wouldn't it be early morning?) Whatever. The point is I can't rest until he comes back and lies down with me. Ansem leaving for weeks at a time never bothered me before. I don't like feeling so uncertain.

To keep myself preoccupied (maybe even prepared) I disinfect surgical needles and supplies like my Daddy had shown me when I was younger. Daddy was a medic in the army and made sure to show me a few things when he came back from duty.

I separate packs that have been open and those that are still closed and clean. I'm almost out of gauze and stitching thread. Big n' bad always comes back from long trips with battle gashes as souvenirs, of which heal into faint scars eventually.

I delve more into my thoughts working through the medical supplies with the help of the study's soft lamp light. I wipe sweat from my neck. Summer is approaching fast making the days hot, and the nights warmer and slightly uncomfortable.

I perk up curiously. I thought I heard a noise. I rise from my spot perched on a stool with caution in my tip toe. If it's a stranger in the hallway, _I'm running_. If it's just some heartless, _I'm killing them_.

The aid kit is set down on Ansem's desk as I stand. I don't peek around the corner. I'm not that scared, but I keep to the castle shadows just in case. I investigate and find a figure leaning tiredly against the metal wall not to far from the balcony stairs. Yes, a heartless. But, not the kind I was expecting.

"Ansem?" I can feel that it's him, but I know something is wrong. I just can't see what it is, not yet.

"You look awful," I don't mean to scrunch in disgust, but I do. From what I can see by moving closer for further inspection he's dripping with blood in places and oozing darkness onto the floor in others. It frightens me to say the least. He looks like he's dying.

He grunts. From the tone he sounds like he's in pain; probably more than he's willing to show. His face says nothing and his eyes are half closed; the glow of his irises dull.

I take some initiative. I guide him by his hand and he trugs after me past the study and far down into his bed room. I'll have to stitch up his wounds after he's clean.

It takes a while to peal away his clothing. The different fabrics have stuck to his skin and need to be peeled away. It all falls to the floor in a dirty heap to be washed, or discarded later. I shrug solemnly at his ripped leather gloves.

"Ansem, you're a mess," he frowns at me, but doesn't say anything. He leans lethargically on the counter of the bathroom watching as I turn the shower on high. When satisfied with the adjustment of the temperature, I remove the rest of his clothes, and mine, and pull him by the arm under the spray of the shower.

"Ansem," I glower. Can I get an explanation?

Nope. Nothing.

"Fine then," I set to work on removing the caked blood from his naked body avoiding deep cuts and punctures. The more I scrub the more darkness sheds and malts down his body like tar; smudging downward through the hot water and to the shower drain. The towel I'm using was white, but it's almost black now. I continue scrubbing and removing the messy layers from his skin. He wraps his arms around my waist pressing me into the wall, leaning heavily against my body. He lets his cheek rest on the top of my head. I can hear the air past through his lungs. He sounds congested. Even the tint of his skin is lacking. It is void of the rich russet brown I like. It's pale and dull.

"Did you miss me?" I empathize. _He is sick isn't he?_ I hate being sick myself.

"Hrmmm,"

Sometimes that means _yes_. I stroke his neck. Poor baby.

When the showering is done, and everything is stitched up I drag him again into laying down. This is one of the few times I witness his inner lazy. He doesn't bother putting on any clothes, and immediately falls sleep a soon as his head hits the pillow. He lies like a log on top of the sheets because he felt too lazy to lay under those, too.

No, you heard me right. He fell asleep. Not into off mode, or stand by like he usually would. He's snoring and everything. The last time I saw him sleep was long ago. Maybe a few days after I had first met him. It's cute (?) from his bare back, down to his bare bottom.

I laugh. If he can sleep I guess I can sleep now, too.

I crawl over his back and under his arm to settle next him. His head shifts to lie against my bosom. The air that passes from his lips there and wafts against my collar bones is cool. I lay there next to him for a while lulled by the rhythmic sound of his snoring.

I need to find volume 13 in the morning.

* * *

_Prolonged exposure to light can cause deterioration in the structure of a heartless, or under extreme light, even complete obliteration._

* * *

The jar. She would say that it is a love hate relationship.

He would say that it's just a jar (even if it was filled with the most sinister un-diminishable darkness found hundreds of worlds away). Nevertheless she would add that the jar was working. Whatever it was, it was keeping Ansem together, and she was right to go on her instinct. He had been upset when she brought it to him, no doubt about that. She had to unlock his personal desk- and she did- to get to it.

"Will it help?"

The reply was prudent and dis-satisfactory. "Yes. Stay out of my desk, woman,"

"I'm only trying to help," her retort comes with exasperation. Truly, she was.

"You could- no you should have asked me first," he snarls, and she understands. No finger prints on his special toys and artifacts.

She minds herself at his bedside. He had not moved since yesterday night. His voice is grained with fatigue, and she can smell that sick scent about him. She's only brought him water (as he asked) other than the Jardinière.

"Ansem?"

"What is it?"

"Do you know what's wrong with you?" She rubs his chest and shoulders.

"There are a multitude of things wrong with me, dear. Be specific,"

"Do you know why you are sick?" she re asks pinching the muscle of his arm in a way that should hurt, but ultimately it doesn't.

"Yes, I do know. Are you worried?" He leers and traces a finger over one of his many stitches.

"Of course I'm worried. If you know please tell me. I've been reading and -,"

"Unnecessary exposure to light,"

"What?" She stops all of her affectionate massaging and focuses all her attention on him.

"I went somewhere I shouldn't have, but like you Phoebe, I get very curious. I stood in a measure of light longer than I my body would have allowed; caught in a battle of sorts. Not one of my best ideas, but in all worth it,"

She nods frowning as she understands.

"Ansem, can I ask something?"

"Yes, Phoebe,"

"Exactly how much exposure—to light— would… _kill you_?"

He hums thoughtfully fiddling with the fingers of her left hand. She's surprised that the question does not bother him.

"I'm not exactly sure. But, know this: I'm a strong being, dear. It would take a fathomlessly large amount,"

"You looked horrible last night," she whines.

"I know. You told me,"

"Stay out of the light," she crosses her arms over a grabbed pillow.

"Easily said, and easily done,"

"Now that that's out of the way, are you hungry?" He enjoys that she's so willing to serve.

"No," he chuckles at his own thoughts.

"Why not?"

"I would throw it all back up,"

* * *

Two weeks of rest have returned me to optimum efficiency. I suppose I should pick my battles more wisely, and even more carefully than that, my battle arenas. Rest assured it will not happen again.

I shall have to make up on lost time simply lying in bed. I need to pick up on my exercise regiments, and my other arrangements. However, I'll take a day or two to fully recuperate and set myself in order before I venture out again. I forget, sometimes purposely, that this upsets the woman. I'll keep myself in good light so she'll be in favor of bedding with me when I do return.

I miss her for different reason at a time. If I can muster to miss her at all.

The opposition and my mate will keep me preoccupied for now. When will my destiny finally begin? I'm tired of waiting for the proper opportunity to present itself.

I will have her watch them.

* * *

I think a lot. Maybe too much? I almost burned my brownies in the oven from being so deep in my own thoughts. In my thoughts I'm always thinking of him. Heh, I remember when I wanted nothing to do with him. I hate heartless, still do. But, it's ironic. I'm in love with one.

Ansem has favor in me, but it doesn't stop his mean. From showing me his teeth, and they're _sharp_. I have tricks, though; slowly breaking through that built of wall of low tolerance. Sad, I still find ways of making angry.

Sometimes retribution is a slightly under elaborate task; borderline back breaking. Sometimes he catches me off guard and goes towards something offhandedly kinky (you can imagine I get a good spanking). Then there are instances when the price to pay is pain.

It always reminds me that there is still a part of him that wants to hurt me, and loves seeing me suffer. It reminds me that I can't let all of my fear go.

Though, all of this may be; I get over it. Something deep in my heart says that, for now, it may just be his way of protecting me. I don't make the best decisions about my well being, and I know I'm something he at least pays mind to.

Besides, we fight, but it's _divine_ when we make up. Ansem never actually apologizes, but I feel it when he touches me. I can live with that. What can I do but accept his advances? Even if he's not exactly human, and defiantly evil.

**Author's Notes:**

**Sorry my dear readers. I haven't updated in a while. School has started and the homework is already packing on. No worries though. I will continue and try my hardest to update on a regular basis.**

**R&R! **


	28. Error

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 28: Error

It wasn't meant to have been made a habit, but like most, it formed over a period of time, and quite unconsciously. Retiring for the night is habitual and ritualistic in fashion. She would have her own way about preparing to sleep, and so did he even if he was only going to lie down and rest beside her. He could decide not to if he didn't require sleep but as time progressed leaving her alone slowly raised alarms. He chooses to watch her slumber instead.

Beside the point, one of the newest additions to the night time rituals was her custom to kissing his neck and face when she couldn't settle herself down. It had bothered him at first; not in a way of worry. To describe it in short, it was slightly annoying.

He doesn't like to be bothered when he's trying to rest (and he'd never tell but he likes to watch her sleep just as much as he loves to hear her moan), but just how he's tolerated her for so long he's learnt to tolerate that ,too. Eventually, it became a comfort; even a motivation for him to relax as much as he should.

It hasn't gone unnoticed that he has been depriving himself lately. She sees him not eat, which is odd for a man of hefty appetite, glances and lies alone when he doesn't come to bed. An assortment of other things keeps her concerned. All seems fine in their unusual relationship, but in the next minute that isn't so. Somehow he finds an almost unlimited amount of time to tend to their other more _physical_ needs.

Despite the _"bonding time"_ it has her pulling at her fingers—nervous—all over again.

His cheek is perched comfortably against her breast. She combs her hands through his hair unable to close her eyes, and cranes her neck to softly and repeatedly kiss his forehead, nose, and eyelids. The ominous sensation that something is off looms over her head in the dark.

Maybe he's merely obsessed.

Perhaps she is, too.

* * *

"Why do you keep going to that broken old office?"

She's referring to a different establishment in another far off wing of the castle. She doesn't go there. The hallways are too woven and more heartless lurk the deeper you journey. Besides her early exhibition from when she had first sampled the castle, she had never revisited the inside.

From what she remembers, the walls are crumbling, the large center desk is cracked, cylindrical tanks that once held preserved spiritual hearts were empty, and the panel walls were covered in abstract notes on the heart's relevance to the human body and soul. She remembered, because that's how much she normally pays attention at a glance.

Why Ansem had been taking frequent trips to the room puzzled her. What was the need to be there? She had a starting hunch that Ansem was interested in the detailed blue prints and charts, but that soon changed. The notes on the walls were similar to the ones in his notebooks. Curious to see what he was so interesting she offered her assistance and pleaded for an okay to tag along. Ultimately this was denied. Not with as much harshness, but with a growl in his eyes.

_"No. I mean it."_

He would catch the attention of her gaze and lock his pupils on hers; twined in a stare. He was trying to intimidate her and smolder the idea of disobeying. This worked, but knowing her it would only hold until her curiosity peaked again. She would give a small smile and he'd break his own frown telling her he'd be with her when his business was done.

_He's hiding something. _

It makes her eyes widen. Then it makes her squint; squint burning holes into the badly lit hallways as his figure moves out of sight.

What would he have to hide from me?

The recurring idea gnawed at her consciences. She tried not to sway toward paranoia, but that was hard considering her natural tendency to wonder, and worry, and fret. Bites leave soft indents on her knuckles, and deep thought turns into head ache. Her heart wasn't doing much better.

What could be so confidential? Was it something dangerous? Most likely not.

She was tired of waiting. Later was now. She was going to find out for herself.

* * *

Strawberry flavored apples and tangerine pears were quite plentiful in Wonderland. She munched them in bunches when her tasks were done. Like always they left her hungry, and the mix matched fruits were the perfect stomach filler after a tedious day.

Mrs. Ringmaster (for that was what the creatures of Wonderland called her) took them in greedy bites. Everyone else including the aristocratic Dodo, the Flamingoes, the sprites, and poor Alice were indulged in quite an argument over what Phoebe would have tamed in the extravagant circuses. You see this world always seemed to make assumptions.

It was curious. They never asked her. By looking at her whip Alice made the conjecture that Mrs. Ringmaster must have tamed lions, while The Dodo argued that she must have ordered large unruly beasts. He made this assumption based on her encounter with the Bandersnatch a few days before. She grew bored of the verbal quarrel in the little group and decided it was time to leave.

The familiar hallways are dark and empty with the late of night. She yawns stretching in her normal clothes. Yet, something tells her not to go to bed.

He's not here?

She knows it, feels that he is worlds away and won't be back until morning. She takes off her heels and tip toes down numerous flights of stairs and hallways in the opposite direction of the living quarters. She scratches her back idly when she reaches her destination. It's the same as it was before; broken, messy, and old. Half disappointed she paces around more letting her hand drag across the desk, and wall.

!

?

If she had been looking quickly, she wouldn't have noticed the glimmer of light behind a panel in the metal wall. She stares into the thin space sinking her fingernails between.

It's a hidden door.

With a little force the space slides open revealing a whole other part to the castle. She gasps and walks though onto a strip of walkway and railing hugging closely to a wall. It's large here beyond reason. Mechanical and electrical boxes of some sorts are lined in roes by the thousands. When she looks over the rails she finds a deep drop into the metal units below.

At the end of the walk way is another door leading to a secluded room. She temps through that and realizes that this is a lab room. At front and center is an enormous master computer. It probably backed up data for more than just the castle, but maybe parts of all of Hollow Bastion. She looks around casually and rubs her arms. The room is so cold; she can almost see her breath.

She peers at the processor with a tilt to her head.

_If you really want to know try browsing the computer..._

Now she understands what Xemnas had meant. This computer was what Ansem had been keeping to himself.

"So, let's see what's on it."

Growing up in a computer based world made sure that accessing the equipment was easy. More important files were password protection. She sulked. Those are always the best. Shrugging her shoulders she accessed and glanced at a few files lain off to the side and completely password free.

Something about darkness in this file.

Another she could see operated the decoder behind her.

Then she opened another that had a title she didn't understand: DRIP_HEART_EXPERIMENT.

"I wonder what this one is," she mused, and skimmed the lines. Just when she is convinced that there is nothing detrimental on the so called computer, she sees _her name_ in print in the opened document.

_Phoebe…_

It is there only once, but that's all that is required to now _fully_ catch her attention. Hesitantly, she re-reads beginning from the top.

_Subject: human_

_Gender: female_

_Height: 4'7_

_Weight: 90-145lbs_

_Subject has been tainted with dark serum. Sedated prior to initial experimentation. Heart was directly exposed to a drop from a test tube._

_I witnessed an immediate change. Subject's heart turned dark as well as eyes. Pupils eclipsed entire eye for a short time._

_As of now, the test subject functions properly. There are no large symptoms as of yet._

_Experimentation shall continue.  
Ancient description will be kept in mind._

_I find it a surprise. The subject's heart has undoubtedly adapted to the influx of darkness dripped onto the heart. I'd also like to note that the subject's heart is a green one. Heart colorations are not uncommon to shades of red, and pink, perhaps even white. Green is a rarity. This pigmentation and its value may be contributing to the subject's overall efficient adaptation. My hypothesis, how ever is sure to turn out to be truth. If this darkness is to continue to consume, then it will eventually lead to the subject's demise. _

_I was wrong. Phoebe is-_

It doesn't continue. She couldn't believe what she was reading. Not t first. The information processed slowly sinking in like corn syrup into her pores. It was her. The subject was her. He hasn't told her everything. _She can't breathe._ Her world seemed as if it were spinning. In the instant she realized that more than something was wrong, was the painful moment those forgotten and smoldered memories came flooding back to her.

When her beast came and dragged her away.


	29. Almost Laughed Herself to Tears

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 29: Almost Laughed Herself to Tears

I pace the narrow strip of hall ignoring the tingle of a growing itch in my back. I run a hand through my hair and continue to drag as I begin to remove my gloves. I am tired; very much so. Fatigue sets in driving parts of my body to protest against me, but I move on. I am back early tonight. I sigh trying to thumb through my thoughts. But, I also feel too tired in my mind. I set a hand to the wall and gaze into the dark.

It's an odd feeling that even now I have not grown used to. I mean to say, that it is still a foreign concept that when I return, there is someone here waiting for me. I seem to come as a relief. When have I ever made someone feel safe?

I squint as I stride through my bedroom door. The fine feminine silhouette I am used to seeing is absent from under the depths of my bed. This is out of the ordinary. In the beginning I thought nothing of it, and went in search of my woman. If not lying asleep in my bed, then surely she must be in the library?

No.

Then where?

Suspicion trickles through my veins and I instinctively go where my feet take me. With the living areas far behind, I wind through the darkness hissing at the stray heartless who block my way.

The abandoned, far off office should be as I left it, but it is not. I glare at the slightly opened panel in the wall and confirm what I knew somehow, was inevitable.

* * *

"You have quite the habit for being nosey." His voice is split between an unnatural calm, and an irate edge.

"Are you just now noticing?" She sniffs eyeing him from between her hands and the hair flipped over her hanging head. Her behind is propped against the railing in the bitterly cold room. She slouches with a crooked bent in her knees.

"I thought I told you not to—"

"Can you explain this to me?" She cuts him off pointing to the eerie bright screen stationed behind her.

"Explain what?"

"Don't what me. This Ansem. What is _this_?" She continues to hold herself in her hands. Her nostrils flare, and her face screws into a hurtful frown like she's biting back an angry sob.

"An experiment file," he puts it simply.

"What experiment?" she says it through her teeth staring at him in disbelief. He searches her face. There is a long silence and all they do is glare at one another.

"Is that what I am?" She stands to her feet her hair swaying with her head. "Have I just been one of your throw-away test subjects?"

"Yes, you were," Ansem sighs messaging his finger tips over his closed eyes. "_Were_," He repeats crossing his arms and rubbing his chin.

"All this time I was thinking it was me. That _all _of this shit was _jus_t _me_. You tampered with my heart," she clutches her chest. He can hear her voice cracking.

"I did, but understand. When Maleficent handed over your life I was already planning to take it. Yet, everything seemed to have taken an alternate root. I wasn't expecting 'us' to happen in the beginning just as much as you hadn't," he takes a cautious step towards her, while she takes one back.

"But you _knew_, and you didn't tell me. You let me hurt, and suffer, and want so bad that it burned through the darkness you put in my heart," she bites her lip hard. Moisture wells at the edges of her eyes.

"I did," his face stays expressionless.

"I'm just your sweet play thing for your own satisfaction. Aren't I? You lie to me, Ansem,"

"I never lied to you," he suddenly snarls bearing down on her. She stares right back up at him as he closes their space in heavy paces. "I am a twisted image of a man and I know that I am cruel, but I am not a liar. I wouldn't lie to you, Phoebe. I don't have a reason,"

She abruptly walks past him, out of the room, and onto the small landing space hugging the wall. He follows after her a scowl etching its way across his already exasperated face.

"Phoebe?" He growls. He's trying hard to be nice. So hard.

Her feet pad harshly against the dust-covered floors. There is rigidness in her back. "I can't believe I trusted you,"

"Phoebe!" He snags her around her waist yanking her against him. His large hands grip her shoulders.

"Let go of me." She manages to wriggle her arms free leaving his heavy hands to clamp against both sides of her small rib cage.

"Stop. You are simply over reacting," he bears his teeth, and shakes her roughly.

"No, I'm not, Ansem. I remember. I remember everything. You ripped my soul wide open and snaked your hands around my neck so I couldn't scream," the tears rolled from her brown eyes. Everything was wrong, so wrong.

He began to softly rub and fondle her body. "Half of the darkness in your heart was already there. The jar...," he trailed his eyes darting into open space searching for something to say; anything that would convince her to calm.

"That jar," she gritted her teeth. "Let. Go. Of. Me," forcefully she shoved him away stomping lividly; speeding ahead of him with her jaw clenched. She was convinced alright.

"What are you doing, woman?" He darted after her scowling as she ran away from his advance.

"This jar," she flung around the corner of his office door frame. Her body took a stance her arm poised high above her with the jar she had taken out of the ripped locked cabinet. "This evil, revolting piece of-" a clap sounded as he caught her arm before she could throw.

"This is unnecessary, Phoebe," he spoke low snatching the Jardinière and setting it on a high shelf.

"Apologize," she takes back her arm rubbing were it had made loud contact with his hand.

"I don't regret what I've done," he scoffed.

"If you cared you would apologize,"

"I told you. What was done was done and no longer matters. Now come, Phoebe,"

"No." now she's grabbing her shoes and holding back cries that strangle her throat, burn, and make it painful to breathe.

"Where do you think you're going?" he's agitated and frustrated. He wants her to obey.

"I need to leave." she flings out her arm abandoning all of her things.

"You leave when I tell you. I gave you everything. I'm all you ever wanted. _You belong to me!_" He barks.

"And it's all the _lies_ the darkness told me. I don't want you. I don't need you. The darkness does," she yells hoarsely.

"That darkness is a part of you, Phoebe. You gave yourself to me and I've done all that you've ever asked. You aren't leaving,"

"You can't stop me," she glowers from under her eyelashes. "I need to think,"

"FINE THEN!" He roars agitating the wicked. The rage drips from his sharp teeth. The world around them darkens with the essence that rolls and emits from his body. "Leave, before I change my mind and do what I should have done before,"

She sways around turning into the murky pooling of a dark corridor.

A pained growl rips from his throat filling the empty hallway with anguish. A surge of foreign emotions (the ones he wasn't supposed to have) ran hot in his chest. He could feel it in his pressure points, and hear it in his ears as the mangled crack and squeal of a steel pipe was ripped effortlessly from the wall next to him. He flung it enraged as it clung loudly against the floor and gushed its inner fluids onto the dirty tile.

Panting he leaned into the wall. Both of his elbows, and forearms supported his weight as he huffed and tried to control his heart rate. He felt slightly dazed at his light head.

He was tired. He was angry (?).

But most of, _lonely_ as the seconds frigidly ticked away.

"She'll be back."

She has to.

* * *

The crisp night air whips my hair around and over my shoulders. The night I suppose is still young. I have been here a long while, but I have time before the sun will rear its radiant head.

Just when I think I'll be happy with my decisions the world comes crashing down on me. I don't fear the truth. I fear the consequences it brings. I have never felt this upset in my life. It's seems to always be like this one situation after another.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I rest my forehead against my knees peering over and staring blankly into city lights. The top radio tower is somewhat of a comfort. I don't mind the height, and the top is flat and stable.

My body has already begun to ache, and my head hurts. The wind makes the reddened rims of my eyes sting, and I can almost breathe through my stuffed nose. I don't want to feel this way. A part of me is angry. So very angry. Then there's the other part of me that would forgive him in a heartbeat. But, I'm not sure that really is me wanting to go back, wanting to lay down with him. I tap my forehead with my palms to stop thinking of him. No more tears fall from my eyes, because I have no more. Oh, but merciful heaven. _I love him. I love him. I love him._

And it is all a big, nasty lie.

I've always been lied to. Maleficent lied to me. I lied to me. I don't know what's real anymore, or how I'm supposed to feel, because I no longer know my own heart. Maybe I never even knew before. I laugh at myself. It starts small and becomes uncontrollable. Why am I laughing? Nothing is funny.

"_What do I do_?" I yell at myself trying to pry out some kind solution from the spaces in my mind. I laugh again, cry, and then repeat.

"Not sure," there's a familiar voice from behind me. I scoot away as a crawl up to my haunches.

I squint into space on the tall skyscraper looking for where the voice had come from. A figure in a black leather coat emerges from the shadows their hands placed casually on their hips.

"What do you want?" I recognize the uniform and the cockiness that floats about them.

"Nothin' much. You see I was sent on a little mission to find you," they explain

"What for," I frown.

"The hell if I know. Xemnas is always requesting bizarre things. Not sure why he wants you. I don't see what the fuss is all about. But, yah' know orders are orders,"

"Tell Xemnas I'm flattered, but not all that interested," I state keeping track of the skyscraper's edge.

"Thought you might say that. See, it goes like this. You ain't got a choice. Boss man said he wanted you alive. "So," they clapped and rubbed their gloved hands together. "we can do this the easy way were you can tag along with me nice and pretty and scratch free. _Or_...we can do this the hard way were I can bring you back half conscious. What's it gonna be?" They flung off their hood and revealed their scarred face. An eye patched covered a missing yellow eye, and graying, long, black, pony-tailed hair showed they were an older man.

"I said no thanks," I crack-summon my whip.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! If you say so," long, tinted metallic guns appeared in the stranger's hands. With a flick they were locked and loaded. "It's a shame, babe. Your daddy s'not here to protect you now,"


	30. Would Go Wrong

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 30: Would Go Wrong

Bright, deadly streams of violet light whiz inches past her face. She had very little time to dodge before an assault of projectiles brings rain towards her every step. Loud gun shots ring tender in her ears. The only sound besides the man's taunting was the thump of her heavy heart beat.

Two long-range fighters. _Just great._

Panting from constantly having to move out of harms way, she presses more energy in her legs and breaks into yet another run. The cord of her whip is held high, poised in the air, and ready to strike when she is finally in close range of her mystery attacker.

"Ah ah!" He crouches from his stationing area on the skyscraper's top. The night wind whips the long pieces of his hair against his back. He makes a mockery of scolding her, and ticks his fore finger from side to side. Just when she is close enough he vanishes in a blink of an eye. She grunts in a sudden yield.

"Over here lassie!" He cackles firing several more rounds before reloading his arrow guns.

She flings her arm and whip forward. Dark masses of sound waves toss gravel and bullets in all other directions. She can't hit him, not yet, but she can at least attempt to deflect his attacks. Whoever he was.

"Come on now babe! We don't have to do this," suddenly he's turned upside down in midair. Wisps of dark violet energy emit from the soles of his feet like he's strutting on an invisible ceiling with invisible Velcro. His guns are still held in front of his only usable eye.

"You can come quietly while you still have the chance," he slurs hoisting both guns in his hands and aiming intently at her face.

She scowls at him rotating the handle of her weapon in her hand with agitation.

"I already gave you an answer," she spits. Her cheeks are warm and flushed from running and her breathing is slightly labored.

"You know, I really really didn't want to have to do this," he grins with a malicious spark in his one eye. "Ohhh, well," he sighs playfully. And vanishes again.

"Ugh," she groans. Her eyes dart in different areas atop the radio tower looking for where the man might pop up again. Several paranoid minutes pass by. The sound of the city below fades in from the background. Car horns beep and every now and again there is an alarm siren. She props herself up on her heels willing herself not to fall.

"_Boo..._"

Sudden blunt pain explodes in the back of her head. Soon, her whole world is crashing down into the dark. Hit with the butt of the gun.

* * *

He paces with deliberate steps. Bare fists clench at his sides. Thin silvery eyebrows knit together in a silent rage.

He should reclaim what is _rightfully_ his.

But he won't.

He'll simply convince himself that it doesn't matter.

When deep down it does, and deep down he knows now. All of hell can go wrong.

He stops his quiet tantrum and ceases to move. She'll be back. He gives it two days.

Sure…

* * *

"Hey hey! Happy now?" Xigbar waves his arms dramatically before placing his hands on his hips. He's panting from exertion and stray strands of his dark hair stick up messily in odd places.

Xemnas turns and stares. One of his eye brows is slightly raised.

"Don't tell me Boss Man. I know you can't be happy," he rolls his one eye, sighs, and pops his knuckles.

Much of the world about them is still under construction. Elaborate, large panels outline in thin, stale air and appear out of nothing. Exactly out of nothing creating a vast castle and metroplex that never was, and never will be. It's a fitting place for its nonexistent inhabitants.

"I assume you were successful?" Xemnas breathes fixing his gaze on the second member of his growing organization.

"Sure, let's go with that," Xigbar grunts pulling the tie from his long hair.

"You look disheveled," Xemnas squints setting his large gloved hands on a guarding rail that surrounds his forming altar.

"The dame caught me off guard! Thought I knocked her clean out. Half way here she snapped up, got her legs around my neck, and nearly strangled me to death. You would've been missing a second in command," Xigbar scowled pointing to a blotching bruise forming a ring around his neck.

"You should be thankful she was alone," Xemnas chuckles dryly.

"You've got a point. The last thing I want is a tussle with Sugar doll's daddy," Xigbar's face grows hard at the thought, as he absently taps at his facial scars. "Darkness ain't much fun when it's burning a whole into the side of your face,"

"Oh, is that how that happened?" Xemnas gives a poor imitation of curiosity and turns back to watching the formation of his immaculate city. The land far and out is dark with flickering neon lights to shops and establishments that will never be occupied. Not really.

Xigbar stares and fixates a frown. He stops fiddling with his scar.

"You got what you wanted Boss Man. _Don't ask for it again_,"

"You are dismissed, Xigbar,"

"Whatever...," Xigbar didn't ask questions. He knew not to by now.

"Oh, and, Xigbar?"

"Yeah?"

"It would be more efficient if kept this information between the four of us," Vexen and Saix were the only others out of nine cumulative members who supposedly knew.

"Now, Xemnas? Would I go off and tell a secret?"

"_Ahh_, of course not,"

* * *

Bright light burns in my vision as I try to crack open my eyes. Parts of me hurt, my head mostly, my arms, and my legs. I hiss as I try to sit up from my lying position. Where the hell am I now?

"Rise and shine!" An excited slur of a voice announces from my right. My pulse drums in my ears making my headache even more unbearable.

"_Where am I?_" I demand to know. I sway on what looks like a nurse's bed.

"Don't mind that. Technically you aren't anywhere!" The voice answers as I turn around to face it. Another man. Same black coat I keep seeing.

"Who are _you_," I try to hop down and find that I can't. The man stands up scribbling notes on a writing tablet. His long, pale blonde hair is dusted out of the way of his emerald-green eyes. He smiles at me with his sunken, angular face like I'm some new shiny thing to examine and poke at.

"I am Vexen," he leers at me, holds his hand out, and half bows.

"And you are?" I hold my arms and tuck in my legs. My feet are cold and bare.

"A scientist!" He scoffs like I should have already known and gestures around the room. It's a lab. Huh, well whadda know.

"Oh, that's...nice," I look about skeptically. I need to find a way out.

"It's more than nice," Vexen starts, but moves on to the point. "Our leader wanted me to take a good look at you young lady," he peers down writing more things vigorously into his notes.

"Xemnas..." My lip curls in annoyance.

"Ah, yes! I was _absolutely_ thrown for a loop when he told me about you. What could be so interesting about some woman? But, here we are, and I must say you are quite the little artifact,"

"What?" He lost me.

He shifts his bangs and makes a face at me like he's annoyed. "Your heart is green," he states "The only other variant besides shades of pink and red, that I have seen, is blue."

"So green isn't normal..." I trail.

"Not in the slightest. You see this kind of pigmentation occurs, well, almost never," he writes more glancing were my heart should be. I frown and hug my arms tighter around my chest.

"So what does anything have to do with me?"

"Don't ask me. I'm only here to collect the necessary data," he scrunches his noses and the edge of his lip twitches. "Though, I find another thing _curious_,"

"Okay, hurry up so I can leave," I locate my shoes in a far off corner of the white wash lab room. I've had _enough_ of being experimented on.

"You have more than one heart developing with in you. The second is dormant; therefore I cannot collect its essence. Uncanny, quite uncanny! I'm not sure what it means," he rubs his pointed chin in thought; his eyes wide with hypotheses. "Oh, and leaving is not an option. It seems our Superior has deemed your heart an useful aid for our causes. At least I think," he adds matter-of-factly.

"Two hearts?" Now, I really am confused.

"Indeed, two. I was only told of your heart color. I don't believe the Superior is aware of there being a second heart," Vexen seems to be mumbling to himself. Even more notes fill his busy hands. It reminded her of something.

"Any who!" Vexen snaps his folder shut. "I'm sure Saïx will be here to whisk you away to the cells or something of that sort. Ta Ta!" He waves lazily as he turns his back. He dissolves into nothing through the folds of a corridor of darkness.

**Author's Notes:**

**Sorry this chapter is so short! Stick with me folks, we're going some where! **


	31. The Hymn

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 31: The Hymn

She isn't sure of the time she fell asleep. The large, cold, thick bars of an isolated cell create dull columns of light that spread far and slanting on the bluish gray tinted floors. The corner she propped herself in is dark and out of view of anyone first entering the facility. The bright artificial light from the seemingly endless hallway contrasts with the dim insides of her holding immediately making her head hurt.

She was unimaginably tired; probably the most tired she has ever been. It could only be expressed as a heavy blanket of fatigue that made her head and her eyes slump.

Horrible could not begin to describe the lethargy she felt as she attempted to sit up properly on the bed bench. The chains holding the bench from the floor clicked softly as she tried to remember how she even got there, but her mind was all but sluggish.

The man with the dusty blue hair and the X scar across his face had taken her here before she had sulked herself to sleep. His tone wasn't threatening, but she could tell it was a threat when he told her "summoning corridors would get her no where," What was his name? Saïx, was right. If she left they could simply track her again. This "organization" was obviously resourceful.

She sighed in frustration. Really, how on earth did she get herself into these kinds of situations? One moment she's crying her eyes out, and in the next she's a prisoner all over again. Perhaps it's all these turns of events that zapped her energy.

So, so tired. Her cheek dragged on the cool wall she bent against. Maybe she should just drift back to sleep. That usually made her feel better...when she was with Him.

"I'm not going to cry again," she croaked pinching the bridge of her nose—which had grown tender over time—and closed her eyes. She was tired of crying, too.

A shifting of noise in the background draws her attention. Foot steps, two pairs, echo with hollow taps on the floating outer catwalk. Voices become audible, almost rushed as they come closer. She watched silently, skeptically as two remarkable looking young men peered inside. Their behavior showed that they probably weren't supposed to be there.

"See! I told you. Didn't I tell you?" The first one spoke low, but excitedly when he spotted her. His sandy brown Mohawk ducked down with his head. His sea marine eyes were wide.

"Well done, Demyx! You were right for once," the other mumbled and waved his arms sarcastically. He also spoke low his angular eyes squinting into her cell and sizing up what was there.

"I over heard Vexen talking to Xigbar yesterday, er, you know what I mean. They said something about a prisoner. Hah! You didn't believe me!" Demyx leapt to the bars to get an even better look.

Her nostrils twitched.

"If you're done..." she cleared her throat and turned her head to look back at them.

"Pretty much," the other one smirked at her and gazed with his flashing green eyes on hers.

_Smart ass..._

"Oh, you're pretty..." Demyx confirmed his eyes brows raised above his head. He looked around briefly. Both of them were probably hiding from some one.

"What's your name, babe?" Smart ass tipped his chin setting his hands in his pockets.

"What's yours, ginger boy?" She squinted.

"Names Axel. Got it memorized?" He tapped his forehead.

"My name is Phoebe. Now, go away,"

"What's got you all locked up?" He chuckled. The markings under his eyes moved with his cheeks.

"How should I know? I didn't ask to be here,"

"Whatever. Come on Demyx before Saïx realizes we were here. See ya," he waves then stalks out dragging Demyx with him.

* * *

"Are you finished?" The familiar drone asks me. I glare up at him. Saïx? I'm not all that good with remembering names. He stares back at me with his usual non expressionistic expression. Most of them are like that, I notice, these people. They react synthetically, or they don't react at all. I've seen old value model androids with better emotional imitations. It gives me a reason to think that they may not be all that human.

"I never started," I stand up, and leave my food were it is. I didn't think to touch it. I tried eating yesterday and all of it was utterly rejected. Unsettled heart can make an unsettled stomach I guess. I'm not hungry anyway.

I sigh as Saïx clamps his large hand around my arm and leads me out of my prison. He says next to nothing dragging me up different flights of constructing stairs and corridors in the process of modeling themselves. Finally, after a bit of walking he stops.

"That will be all VII," Xemnas hums. His arms are crossed behind his back staring out into the distance beyond a glass wall. He turns slowly. It's intimidating the way he looks me strait into my eyes. Xemnas' eyes are kind of like His, but not as luminescent.

Saïx leaves the same way he came, and Xemnas steps forward. He's close enough to reach out one arm to grab me, but far enough to turn away.

"Hello, I hope you aren't finding your stay here too uncomfortable," he tilts his head curiously to the side and lets his arms fall.

I don't say anything.

"It's unfortunate that this has been an inconvenience for you," he pauses and stands directly in front of me towering two hands high above my head. "But I understand that you have seen the door,"

My brow furrows. What is he talking about? "I don't follow,"

"The one beyond the Margin,"

I stare at him. I remember the Margin but everything is so distorted.

"Do you want to know why?"

I nod very slowly. My mouth is held slightly agape.

"A door," He starts his deep voice echoes. "A grand door. Boundless and untouched."

Memory. Memory. What was it? What was it? I feel like I should know what he's trying to pry out of me. It hangs on the edge of my tongue, my heart, and my mind slowly resurfacing like a fuzzy hologram coming into focus.

"You have seen the locked door. He made you see it, because he knew you would." I don't notice when he tugs a piece of my hair, or, at least I try not to. Xemnas is far too close to me now, and moves in more while I'm distracted.

I've seen the locked door?

It drops like a penny and pings against the ground at the sound of realization. The locked door. My heart has seen the door. I _know_ what the door is.

"Kingdom Hearts…" I whisper it to myself. You know what? I remember He hurt me then, too.

* * *

"Ahh, so you _do_ remember," It can only please you to determine that things are going exactly the way you wanted them to, because you get what you want when you want it.

She stares at nothing in particular. You watch her face noting all the little facial twitches and the darting of her eyes like she's recollecting all the information in her head.

"Green is a variant that stretches far enough," You take a step, and stare her boldly in her heart shaped face. She falters swaying in timid steps back. "I found that valuable. But..."

You edge even closer and calmly observing her squirm under the smolder of your eyes.

"But?"

"I don't exactly like sharing,"

"?"

"The information I have collected is far too valuable towards my organizations goal. So in turn means that you can not return to him,"

"!"

"I could…either take siege of your heart, but it would be much easier to simply kill you. I know he would be quite irate if I did that, now wouldn't he, Phoebe?"

The swift, graceful smear of your arm drags the spear-bright luminance of an Ethereal Blade through the air and down to the base of her throat. The flash of emotion—fear, terror, anger, shock—that sweeps across her face is an entertaining show. It was something you had not seen before. The expressions occurred in milliseconds of each other as you lunged hard enough to petrify her, but in reality that was your intent.

The bright red glow cast shadows under her face. She hissed as the energy stung searing small patched onto her skin. As soon as you drew back, she turned and ran; a blur of purple hair behind her. You chuckle dryly letting the beam that extended from your palm fade.

How interesting.

"Should I retrieve her?"

"No, Saïx, let her go. We have what we want. Tell Vexen that I will speak wit him soon. Base construction can commence immediately. We will however, have to continue our wait for our key,"

"Sir?"

"Yes, VII?"

"Is there a reason as to why you didn't terminate her?"

"Hmm," you smirk and turn back to the view of the window. Your hands yet again find place and mesh behind your back. "Because it would be immoral to lay death to not only one life, but another yet unlived. Moreover, now I know things others don't," and you left it at that.

You knew things…All of this should be _very_ entertaining. Not to mention informative, because you also liked to _experiment_.


	32. Untill the End of Time

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 32: Until the End of Time

Everything is fuzzy at first. I gaze out into space trying to make sense of my surroundings. As my vision comes more into focus, I realize there is nothing to see. It's dark and not much else.

Or is there?

I become more aware of myself and feel the roll of luke-warm breath float over my shoulders. I want to sit up, but why am I so afraid?

My hands slowly scratch and claw at the ground. Brush and leaves crunch under my palms. Grains of dirt become caught in the creases. I leverage myself up, but the unbearable, stinging pain in my thigh keeps me where I am. Directly above me something grumbles. I can't see it, but I can feel it looming over me and bearing its teeth. I whimper in fear. I am going to die.

A staccato of thick thumping paws against the hard, worn, dirt ground makes the insides of my ears itch. I guard my face with my arms and curl as much of myself away as the thing lunges down. I expect a lot more pain, but I don't get any.

The soft lull of a large, flat tongue coats, and laps at my thigh; cleaning the blood that had already started to clot there. The thing lays down its heavy black body with a hollow echo and purrs blissfully as it moves from cleaning the deep wound on my thigh to the slashs on my hips. I'm not sure whether or not to be terrified or disgusted.

It keeps moving dusting languidly over my sides and over my shoulders. It continues the same pattern over and over again until my skin feels hot and raw. What is this?

"Don't fidget, dear," it snarls dragging its tongue against my cheek.

My breath hitches in my throat as my neck cranes to the side. As if burning behind a furnace, vivid pools of light cut into the darkness. The luminous eyes lock, and throw away the key with mine.

His eyes are wild fire that smolder with the intensity of familiarity. They flicker predatorily and I watch in a daze as ember float like glowing rhythmic snowflakes. The air becomes smoky. I like the smell.

"I know you," I whisper half to myself.

"Of course you do," he opens his mouth. The back of his throat crackles like a dungeon dragon's and sharp teeth glow like hot welding iron. The cave comes aglow from the beginnings of the light source.

"I'm quite lonely, dear. You are perfect fuel to feed my appetite,"

It's too _familiar_. It's too real.

"You want my heart," I spill. It felt so instinctive to say.

"Want it!" He barks. "I already have it!"

"How?" Air rushes from my lungs under the push of a heavy paw. The claws dig into my stomach. I can't breathe.

"You gave it all away,"

Static in my ears. Crunching of leaves.

And the fire changes in the pit of his chest, and yet, eyes stay the same.

Jaws open wide. What was white turns back to black.

And the fading world and the bright fire is Greendown.

* * *

You awake with a snap. You've been so much more irritable since you had returned to living in seemingly temporary solitude. You are jumpy, and you found that unacceptable and pathetic. But it was tragically unavoidable.

You wanted her to appear at any moment and return to her place at your side. It was her company you missed the most. Or, maybe it was the sensation that you had something to guard and protect. Not that she needed it, but you don't like sharing your valuables. Not with _anyone_.

Regardless of how you felt (and it was far from content) three days had passed without a trace of her. You growl casting aside bed sheets and standing to your feet. If she wasn't back now, she would not be back later. You were noxious with fowl emotion.

But, you were rational, void of sentiment, but rational. This either meant that she had severed her tie in blind anger, or something was wrong.

You had hunches.

* * *

She rubs her arms and turns very slowly to the light that floods in from the window of her small hotel room. It's mid afternoon now and she still finds herself dreadfully tired after sleeping in for some extended time. She groans looking out through the sting of sun ray and onto the warming west district of Metropolis.

She fans herself using her hand and stands dizzily to turn up the room's air conditioner. With another grumble she sits again opening an outrageously priced bottle of water.

She sips slothfully relaxed by the flow of cold distilled water. Her head tilts and she makes a noise of frustration. There was so much more uncertainty. She swept sweat from her cheeks. Who was after her now? What was she to do now not even knowing whether she was safe? An image of Xemnas flashed in her mind. He could have killed her if he wanted to, and her escape from The World That Never Was was a suspiciously short one.

She knew what she wanted to do, but she knew her 'husband' far better by now. She wouldn't know what to expect if she returned to him now. Really, she was afraid of the consequences. Then again, she was still ruffled and bitter about his blatant excuse and disregard for what he had done. She wanted a direct apology.

Still. What to do? What to do?

She desperately wanted to speak with her mother, her voice of reason, but that didn't seem secure either. She didn't want to jeopardize the only family she had all over _again_. If she did, though, she'd have to explain _everything_. There was just no way.

The only thing she could do was sit, wait, and weigh her options. If in three days she was safe, then she would go to see her mother. In the meantime she had to do something about her hunger. Maybe she'd order sherbet from room service. She had enough munny.

Sighing for a last time she turned the dial up a bit more on the AC with her foot. Summers in Metropolis suck. Her bottle was filled back to the cap with faucet water and closed as tightly as possible; plastic tabs and all. No shame, no extra pay. Now, where was that phone?

* * *

Xigbar perched himself high on a ledge. Hallow Bastion— so as it's now called—stretched out before him. This whole place was turned upside down, and a huddled mess compared to what it was in its hay day. It used to be radiant. A real home. Now, it was just as _empty_ as what its name meant.

Xigbar sighed an empty sigh. He couldn't really feel down. No heart. No emotions. But, he usually got over that. Somehow it was better this way.

He stood up more and stuffed his hands in his pockets. The haze of the horizon split the violet earth from the pale pale gray sky as it darkened.

"Man oh man, what a day," he popped a crick in his neck. He had at least something to not exist for right?

Well, no. Not really. He didn't give a damn about getting his heart back, but he had to at least take a grander at the other possibilities.

He took a deep breath through his nostrils and involuntarily scrunched his nose. Something fowl passed through the cooling night breeze. Xigbar swiveled around swiftly. He squints his eyes and if he could, he would have felt the sting of fear. Xigbar could stare Xemnas deep in his eyes, but the other side (one he encountered many times before) was very difficult. Even from the distance the two stood, a glare was hard to hold.

"Long time, no see," Xigbar gazed and turned around completely. He started to wonder how he didn't notice the other approach. Xigbar was careful. Always careful.

The familiar intruder merely stood, arms crossed, and a scowl etched into the glower of his eyes.

"I'm going to presume that you know why I'm here," he speaks taking slow strides towards the edge of the rift. Xigbar decides it an unwise idea to move in any direction.

"Maybe you just wanted to swing by and say Hi?" he knows he shouldn't be smart, but he can't help it.

"Don't," He's closer now that nasty lingering of darkness seeping out of his every heavy step. "We'll cut this short. I'm not in the mood for the formalities,"

"Suit yourself," Xigbar shrugged his shoulders and feigned his nervousness.

"Where is she?" He snarls, and Xigbar grows ever more uncomfortable with the heartless's proximity.

"How should I know?"

"Because you have everything to do with it," the heartless growls. "You can not pretend that you and I don't both know."

"I don't know shit about where your dame is. I know! Why don't you ask Xemna—?"

Xigbar is seized by his throat in the blotch of black that reaches out to wring up his body.

"Don't fuck with me, _Braig_..." the side of his face is slammed and dragged against jagged rock. Blood leeks from the left side of his nose and oozes from fresh cuts under his cheek. "What did you do with her, hmmm?" Darkness makes everything _sting_.

"..." Xigbar spat as the metallic taste littered his mouth from the drip that came down his nasal cavity and into the back of his throat. The longer he waited the more everything hurt. His opposition seethed and proceeded to crudely twist his arm.

"Ah-Alright, alright. Whoa there, brother. If you killed me you'd—you'd never know!" he negated a possibility. The pressure straining his breath lessened if only slightly.

"I'm _listening_." The other holding him down growled paranormally and it reminded Xigbar of how un-human they were.

"I-I can tell you, alright, but I can't tell you everything. I don't know everything. We let your sugar doll go long while back. Ain't seen her since. So if you want her you'll have to fetch her yourself," Xigbar hacked closing his eyes in increasing pain. The pressure amplified until it was an unbearable unit.

There was a growl of contempt, and then the snapping of bone. He howled angrily. The crack was loud and nauseating when it echoed. Xigbar panted and wheezed through his hardly clenched teeth.

As suddenly as he crashed into the wall, he was cast to the ground. A heavy foot crashed down onto his sternum knocking the wind out of him.

"_Touch her again_," Xigbar stared straight into his eyes "and I'll do _much_ more. I'll end your pathetic excuse for a non existent life. I thought you better, Braig,"

The boot was gone, and so was the man who owned it.


	33. Of My Ways

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 33: Of My Ways

Whoops.

I said I would wait for only a few days. That had been the plan. Lay low, Phoebe! I did and waiting proved that it was safe and clear for me to visit my parents.

I didn't.

The more I thought the more paranoid I became, because you know what?

Mamma would _murder_ me.

Every now and again I revved up the courage to walk the familiar sky-key lit lanes to Metropolis' West districts. The skyscrapers stared down from above judging me with their long shadows. High pitched car horns honked catching my attention to familiar waving faces. I come close to the small apartment complex, but in anxiety I don't enter gazing fixedly up at 57821 as I pass.

Really, I feel absolutely pathetic.

Not only will I not go home, but I can't go Back. Well, I could. But Ansem would murder me. Or I'd murder him. It depends on who's angrier. And, let's face it. I may be deeply upset. But he has to be toxic with fury by now.

Like I was saying, three days kind of twisted into three weeks, which eventually became a month and a half.

Where have I been? Nowhere really. Avoiding Watcher Androids marching the streets, keeping to myself, and staying in cozy hotels where the people know me like family. I'm lucky that Greendown is a good, wholesome, military known name. This town loves a soldierboy, and Daddy was a five star sergeant. Maleficent even made him a knight once.

I shake my head in fond memory. That's why you don't say Mr. and Mrs. For all who know my family, Mamma and Daddy are addressed as Sir and Lady.

I sigh stabbing at a mound of mango orange sherbet with a spoon. The spinning fans of the Chocolate Tavern's patio hum over head. The other young women around me are dolled in their best summer get-ups and stripe designer hats, running their fingers through their short, pixie curled hair. I envy their chipper energy as they twitter away about the latest fashion, jazz music, shiny Cadillac cars, and what ever else it is that they talk about.

All I ever feel is tired. Really, really_ tired_...and lonely. God, I miss him, but I'm too mad to walk my ass back where I belong. Stupid men. Stupid men that aren't human. Stupid non-human man that I love, but too afraid of to go back to.

Stupid heart, emotions, blah blah blah.

I let my forehead it the warm metal mesh patio table. The sigh I heave is a dramatic one; the kind that sounds like a gurgling cat. I frown. My ice-cream is starting to melt, and the skin on my arms burn from the sun.

Stupid summer heat.

* * *

"Is there something troubling you?" Xemnas asks innocently directing his question at you. How dare he set foot back in Hollow Bastion after all you _know_ of what's been done.

A surge of rage lying under your skin quickened your heart beat. You could hear the thundering in your ears; a steady beat to the side of your Adam's apple.

"You know very well what the trouble is," you take deep inaudible breaths through flaring nostrils.

Xemnas keeps an unreadable expression. "I merely seized what I deemed was a fine opportunity. Isn't that what _you_ did?"

It stung, because it was true. You squint. Your back molars clamp against one another moving your temples.

"If you want to know, she is...no longer in our interests. You don't have to worry about that."

You realized the moment you confronted Braig that Xemnas desired her heart data. He wanted that door just as badly as you did, but he wanted to create his own.

"Don't touch what isn't yours," you snarl.

"I'll make a note to remember that, but last time I checked she turned from you. I should say it was fair game." Xemnas clicked his tongue against his teeth looking on the rocky planes with amusement.

"She wasn't up for bargain. You mistake me, Nobody,"

"I apologize. I can not say the same for my second in command. It is customary for him to hold at gun point. I had no control over that. It was of my utmost interest to have her alive and well as I knew it would also be yours," he speaks choosing his words carefully. Aerial heartless caw, and circle up above. "But, I suppose you got to Braig already."

"Son of a bitch _deserved_ every bit of it," you sneer. Revenge dripping from your teeth.

"Perhaps," Xemnas chuckles and shakes his head. "Was it necessary to break his arm?"

Of course it was. The thought of her afflicted with bruises (that you didn't cause yourself) set loathing tingling in your spine.

Not quite satisfied, and just as enraged as you came, you left. A fight wasn't worth it no matter how much the urge to destroy something itched in your dark bones.

If not shackled she should be back by now. It had been far far too long now. He was starting to doubt she ever would.

That made you generally resentful more than anything.

* * *

She pouts regretfully finding it hard to look her mother in her face. Eventually she gave in. The need to be at home was to much of a allure.

"Hey, Mamma," she shrugs her shoulders and smiles nervously with her teeth.

"Oh, lord. Come on, come on in," a small hand is placed on her shoulder shuffling her into the small apartment. The door hinges clank behind them. She's surprised to see her. It's been months.

She sits on the small couch parallel to a Carousel Dual Dial Radio in the place where a TV should be. Lady Greendown stands incredulously in front of her pursing her full lips, and setting her knuckles on her sides.

"So," Mamma starts.

"So..." She tilts her head and puffs her checks. This is why she was hesitant to come.

"Wherey' been?" Mamma's short cut, purple hair flicks with the quirk of her neck.

"Round'...Where's daddy?" she bites her lip with glazed brown eyes.

"He's out with Soda Pop, and the other big boys keeping maintenance near uptown. And what do you mean _just_ 'round'?" Mamma narrows her eyes and sits down by her daughter. The sink in the couch dips softly under the round of her bottom. It is old and well used.

"Just around helping out friends and local shops for a little munny. Catching up with people I missed," she tampers with her favorite piece of hair from her bangs, or pulls at her fingers till they pop.

"Toby," she pauses "he told me you where in town again," Mamma crosses her arms and looks stern.

Phoebe disliked Toby. He, in a nutshell, was that guy who had stalked her half her life. He was a practiced doctor now, a little more reserved, but that still didn't stop him from being an annoying womanizer. She scowls.

"I was afraid."

"What are you afraid for! Phoebe, I'm your mother. You can come in any time and talk to me. Your father, too!"

"I don't know how to explain." She shook her head.

"Explain what?" Mamma leans suspiciously.

"Well...Ah, there's this man," she searches for the right words.

"_Mmm hmmm_. I knew it!" She pinches her daughter's sensitive shoulder. "_I knew it. I knew it. I knew it_," she mumbles setting a worn hand on her head.

Phoebe smiles despite herself.

"Alright then. We should move this conversation to the kitchen. Shouldn't we?" Lady Greendown leverages herself up on her aging, short, butter brown legs. "Get on up, come in and talk to me. What happened now," Her mother had a habit of assuming the worst, and the worst was usually exactly it. Even if it was a bit exaggerated. It wasn't like she was pregnant or anything.

And she does follow. Not as uncomfortable as before, but a lump still remains lodged in her throat. She still didn't know how she was going to explain her mess. She's have to start _all_ the way at the beginning back before the story even began. She didn't know if she wanted to talk about that. Broadway was ripped from her soul in those times.

"You need anything, baby?" The breezy, sweet air of the kitchen is a cool welcome for the heat in the living area.

"Yeah, got any fruit flavored icecream? I'd really like some."

* * *

Maleficent drummed her long nailed fingers against a cushioned chair arm. Her lofty eyes and smile glinted through a cascade of green fire that blazed high over a fireplace mantel and charred the ceiling into a crumbly black. Her faithful old black bird croaked loudly and perched itself on the left horn of her head eyeballing her nosily.

She mumbled in praises to herself, accomplishments, settlements, and resent bargains. Leaving her own damned world was the best thing she could have ever done for herself. Her pity little Enchanted Dominion wasn't as nearly as fabulous as this one, or the next she planned to obtain. And why not hold just one princesses heart when she could have many and them some? All it took was time, and power.

Darkness. Darkness was _power_.

And if Kingdom Hearts held the power that was rightfully hers, then she would reach to grasp it in her hands. It didn't matter who she had to degrade, or step on, or align herself with. She had her heartless, she had her soldiers, she had her Districts under her domain, and she had those who owed her under her thumb.

Which reminded her.

She had a few things to check up on….

**Author's Notes:**

**Sorry! Again, not a long chapter, but we are still getting there! Hang tight with me people. I'll make it up and make sure that the next chapter is much much longer! PM me if you have any questions! **


	34. Suffer

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 34: Suffer

He peers out into the familiar void. He's been here many times before, but it is a place normal people dare not go. This place, this abyss is not for the faint of heart. Maybe someone would do better with no heart at all? But, that is a question already known to be a fact. No human heart should ever linger here, and yet...He looks down. He spooks inwardly, but stays just as emotionless and still. How unusual.

"Lost your way, little one?" He thinks that they must not have been aware of each other until now.

"No," says a small sugar sweet voice. He tilts his head in curiosity. He can hear the soft chime of her heart. The spiritual off beat rhythm is painfully familiar.

He stands closer, next to her so that he can have a better look. She's a pretty little girl with milk brown skin, a heart shaped face, and eyes that don't blink as much as they should giving her a constant alert expression.

"How did you find yourself here, dear?" He asks. It's not every day you find a (sane) person (a child?) standing at the very boarders of endless dark.

"I'm not sure," she answers while never turning to face him.

"Do you know where you are?" He leans down more so that he can hear. She only comes up to the middle of his thigh. His eyes glow luminesantly as he scans her little face.

"I think I should know? It's dark, but I don't mind," her eyes shift and gaze into his. The feeling is an eerie comfort, like he's staring straight into a mirror. Her face is young, but her eyes are hard, and much much older.

"Oh, is that so? Aren't you afraid of the dark, dear?" The edges of his lips tug up into a jagged smirk revealing the sharp tips of his canines.

"No," she shakes her head, and turns to look back out among the darkness.

"Tell me your name, won't you?"

"It ends with an '_ee_' sound," she answers ambiguously, her voice soft.

"That's no fair," he chuckles deeply. The sound vibrates. "Would you like to know my name?" He asks instead.

"No, thank you. I already know your name,"

"Oh? What is it?"

He sees her small, full lips mouth a title, but he doesn't hear it pass through the air.

But regardless of whether he heard it or not; it _shocks_ him.

* * *

You sit up slowly in bed. One hand rubs your lower back, while your other elbow is propped on your knee. You sigh ignoring the gurgle in your stomach.

It was a very rare, sometimes disoriented thing for a dream to fill that dark empty space when you closed your eyes. For someone like yourself it only happened when something was wrong. Somehow, you felt that this time that wasn't the case.

You wanted to know what it _meant_, but that would have to wait.

You leveraged yourself off of the edge of the bed, winced from leaning too much on a morning erection, and stood to your feet. Beams of pale daylight barely fluttered across the thick carpeted floor.

Nothing felt right anymore. You sighed exasperated. Why was it _now_ so hard to be on your own? You knew the answer to your own question, but chose not to accept it. There simply "_was no time_". You more or less lied to yourself.

It wouldn't be too long before the time came to take siege of the key that would unlock the door to everlasting darkness.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose in deep though, and stretched all the anger from your stiff muscles.

It's been too long.

* * *

Voices flash on the Dual Dial radio. There are all talking about the same thing. I sip at soda pop and sit on the floor in front of the couch and coffee table. I haven't sat on the floor and tuned into the radio since I was young. It's nostalgic. I flip the dial in search of some story telling, but all I get is new news about the same old thing. Metropolis' government is becoming unstable, and I know why. It's just not my place to tell.

It's stupid, yeah I know.

Governor here, law this, contact that. Whispers of suspicious information float in waves. I laugh at some of the conspiracy theories. But this upbeat city doesn't know that the Gov is just a mask; puppets and talking faces over a one queen monarchy. I know, Mamma knows, Daddy knows, too. But if we valued a little peace...

I look up and over my shoulder. "Mamma...?" I whine and lean back on the floor. She doesn't reply at first, but I know she's in the kitchen.

"_Maaaaammaaa_?" I stare up at the dusty old ceiling fan.

"Yes?" She shouts over a kitchen banister.

"Did you buy any sherbet?"

"Yes, Phoebe,"

"Is it multi-flavored?"

"Yes, Phoebe,"

"Yay...!" if I could I would cry tears of joy.

I smile. I can see her shaking her head. Pixie cut hair flicks from side to side. Laughing she rummages through the refrigerator for dinner makings. I turn to a grandfather clock. Its gong swings lazily. I'll stay here a little while longer. Before ten, I decide. Because after ten thugs and gangsters prowl out with their boys and dames. It's hard to tell them apart from wealthy business men. They all look the same; clean cut, fedoras, slicked hair, suits, and charming smiles. Oh, yeah. Back when, I used to see lots of them wandering the night life.

"Baby?" Mamma starts over the sizzle of a frying pan.

"Hmmm?" I'm trying to listen to two things at once. The radio drawls on about climbing summer heat. Can you believe it? It's almost July.

"When you gonna go see Toby?"

"_Never_," instant reply.

"Now, Phoebe. I know you don't like him, but he's willing to offer a service for free."

"But, Mamma..." I pout. I really really dislike Toby. I don't care if he is a recommend doctor.

"But nothing! You make sure you go." she points the tip of a cooking knife menacingly in my direction. "He missed you as much as every one else and only wants to help."

"There's nothing wrong with me!" I close my eyes and wine more. I pick lint from my clothes and hair, and then stick my fingers in my collar to adjust my bow tie.

"_I_ think there is." Translation: I-think- know- what- it- is-and- it-is- going- to- kill- you. Mamma's right eyebrow is high on her forehead. Her face is stern. "I mean look at you!"

"What's wrong with the way I look?" I squint at her incredulously. My lips purse as I make a unhappy face.

"Well, you just look a little...I don't know." She shrugs her shoulders and kneads biscuit dough.

"I look a little _what_?" I sit up turning swiftly to see her face.

"A little stout now ah' days," she mumbles.

"Stout! Mamma I am not fat!" Now I want to die in a hole. My mother thinks I'm obese.

"I did not say _fat_! You just look like you gained some weight. And you mope, Phoebe! Sleep, mope, and look more tired than a Hebrew slave."

"Fine. I'll go see Toby," I grumble and growl. I don't _wanna_.

"Good, now hush. You'll wake your father." She bends down to check the stove. "When are you going to tell me more about this _man_, like you promised?

I scrunch my face. My nose twitches. I'd rather not talk about him, or what I did in his company.

"I...will." I promise to make it as vague as possible.

* * *

"Lord, Xemnas?" Nearly three quarters of his world is complete. The static of neon light fills the spaces between buildings. Everything would start soon. Very soon he thought.

"Yes, IV?" Vexen drummed his fingers out of a pre-learned habit rather than actual nervousness. He had excellent news, but simply talking to the superior made bile rise to the back of his throat.

"I came to inform that the frame work and bases is nearly complete," Vexen looked up from a lower level of stairs. Dusks slithered about holding boxes, information, or random items o take to random places.

"The king constructs his Kingdom," they hissed when the slunk by sure to mind the Nobodies of high rank. They dare not approach Xemnas. Vexen tried to ignore them.

"I appreciate the notification," Xemnas drawls. His eyes impatiently seek out the nearly finished creation of an altar.

"Yes, the data collected from Her heart proved quite efficient. Now all we need is—"

"A Key to fill in the space,"

Vexen slowly nodded his head. "There is one problem though, sir,"

"And what might that be, IV?"

"I require more heart data before we can proceed with obtaining the key,"

"Then acquire it,"


	35. True

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 35: True

I pat my knees impatiently. Toby isn't here yet for my appointment. I'll say that I am at least a little happy and appreciative. It's a Sunday, and the check up is free of charge. Good thing Toby's office is an independent one. On any other day I'd be grumbling in an eerie hospital waiting room awkwardly avoid eye contact with sick people.

"Hiya!" I hear a happy voice and the jingle of a certification clip badge.

"Hey, Toby." I fake smile. Let's get this over with.

I follow the swing of his white cover coat into one of the private practice wings in the business complex of Uptown Metropolis. Other people quietly pass by operating expensive machinery, or guiding other people into different specialized wings. We pass a couple of glowing female androids. They must be nurse's assistants.

"How have you been? Haven't seen you buzzin 'round in a while." Toby uses his keys to unlock the door to his facility. "Dr. Toby Blair: Women's Health" is printed in bold white letters on the upper glass window.

"I'm fine, I guess." I answer scratching my arm.

"Well then, I _guess_ we'll just have to see." He smiles weirdly at me, the same way he usually does then asks me to take a seat. I'd rather stand, but I sit anyway.

"My mother thinks that there is something wrong with me," I cross my arms and wipe sweat from my neck. Summer heat still lingers on my skin. I hand him paper work that I had filled out before he got here. "But I disagree." He takes the paper work and fastens it to a data scan clip board. The information is collected in a bright bar of light from the documents and cataloged into a doctor's data base.

"Maybe Lady Greendown is right?" he hums and clicks the clipboard device off.

PHOEBE F. GREENDOWN...¦ [inquiry?]

reads a glowing screen.

"Anything abnormal you'd like to tell me?" he sits down next to me and takes out a touch tablet pen from his pocket. I sigh. One of his own android assistants whirrs to life and flutters in and out of the office.

"No, not really. Just me eating, and being lazy."

He chuckles. "Figures." He knows how I am. "What do you mean by lazy?"

"I've been a bit tired."

"Fatigue?"

"Sure, fatigue." He scribbles things down that transfer to the data screen. It reminds me of sitting in the lab with...what was his name...Vexen in that other odd, _empty_ world.

"Anything else?"

"Um, my stomach, and I've gained a little weight." I shrug my shoulders.

"Weight gain...and _nausea_?" He mumbles. "Any vomiting?" He squints at me. What's that look supposed to mean?

"No, and not nausea. Something like a cross between heartburn and digestive irregularity." I wiggle my heeled foot. Can we hurry this up?

"That it?"

"That's it."

"Well follow me. We'll measure your height and weight."

And we do. 4 feet 7 inches. Still the same height of an average fifteen year old girl. 127 pounds. Eww, I'm twenty pounds overweight. That's just stupendous.

"Looks like you've gained quite a bit."

No, duh.

"I knew I remembered you being thinner, Phoebe." Toby comments.

Shut up.

He looks up from his tablet and gives me another odd look. I can tell he's burning to ask me more personal questions. I hope he can pick up the message that I ain't interested.

"I can tell you aren't up for any intrusive health exams, so how does a blood test sound?"

"Alright," I puff my cheeks. I don't like needles either. But I would rather be stuck with a needle than anything _else_.

* * *

"You wouldn't happen to know where I could find Her, Xemnas?"

"Her? That would be?"

"The green heart."

"Ahhh, her. I would have no leading, Maleficent. Now, why would you address me?" Xemnas uncrosses arms. Hard wind flings his hair from his back and neck. He had been hesitating a dissent. The jagged rock cuts under his black boots.

"It's my understanding that you where the last person to acquire her."

"That much is true, but as her whereabouts, it is apparent that she is not in my company. Try looking in more obvious places," he answers curtly then jumps.

_Ruffled_, Maleficent takes her leave just as soon as she came.

* * *

I tap the top of a band aid stuck near the crease of my forearm. In earlier centuries a blood test would have taken days, but the world I grew up in is what you call revolutionary or just pseudo futuristic. Technology allows me to get my results the day my blood is drawn.

"Here we are." All it takes are a few drops for information to be read and transmitted to organized statistics.

"What now?" Come on. I need to leave.

"We check off to see if anything is wrong." He starts his "check-off" scrolling through all of my blood work. This is going to take forever.

"Let's not take a millennium, okay?" I sway impatiently.

He laughs (ugh) and swipes the tablet pen on his clip board moving the screen.

"Nothing wrong here..." he mumbles every now and again. I'm constantly checking the clock. I resort to tugging at the hair of my bangs.

"Hmmm...?" He eventually hums like he's confused.

"What?"

"So when were you going to tell me?" He swivels around, half smiles, and shakes his head.

"Tell you what?"

"That you were expecting."

"_Excuse me?_ Toby quit playing." I snort. "See this is why I don't like you." I expect him to roll his eyes.

He holds that odd confused expression again. He runs a hand through his glossy chestnut brown hair and adjusts his glasses. For a moment he stares at me like I'm crazy. I stare right back.

"I take it you don't know."

"Know what, Toby?"

"Well, your blood contains high levels of hGC."

"And that means? I don't speak doctor, Toby." No.

"That you're pregnant." No.

"I'm serious, Toby." I slump over. Elbows hit my knees and the heels of my palms press against my forehead. No.

"I'm serious, too. Look, based on the level of chorionic gonadotropin in your blood it looks like you've been pregnant for a while." He reads numbers and tries to make me understand.

"How long is a while?" No.

"You have almost completed your first trimester."

"Three months?" The hell? How could I have not known for almost _three_ full months?

"Yes." He twirls his thumbs. "Are you okay, Phoebe?"

"I'm fine," I lie trying to absorb it all. I need to leave.

"I could do a couple of other things, if you'd like." Toby looks just as unsettled as I do. "That is if you plan to continue..." He trails off unsure of my reaction.

I _know_ what he means. "Why wouldn't I continue?" I lower my voice solemnly and imply back.

* * *

Thoughts race a mile a minute through her head, and she can barely pay attention to where she's going. Eventually she leaves her world all together. A manila packet is clutched tight in her shaking hands. Escape, if only for an hour or two.

On the other side of a dark corridor a dusky horizon and cooling beach is waiting for her. She sits against the bark of a hanging palm tree littered with little yellow fruit and lets her tired feet sink into the warm sand.

_I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant._

A fast pasted beat that added to her stomach ache.

_And it's** His**._

Added to her heart throb.

How was it even possible? She couldn't make complete sense of it. He wasn't human. She thought back hard, and remembered the last of many times she had let him pin her down and make her feel special. Regardless of biological compatibility, there was no other cause that lead to her current dilemma. She pressed her palm hard into her forehead. It was her fault for assuming and not considering _other_ possibilities.

Now, she'd even seen what she looked like on the inside, and there _was_ something there. She wedged the bulky packet of health notes, and documentation under her arm.

"Hey, it's you."

The sudden voice is a casual one. "What's wrong?" It turns into young curious concern.

"Oh! It's nothing, Riku. I'm just a little lost." She jumps. He didn't make any noise when he approached startling her from her deep thought. Sniffing, she takes the time to look at him. Paranoid looks like he's gotten bigger since the last time she saw him.

"But don't you know where you are?"

"I do, but I don't." She shakes the lightness from her head.

"I know that feeling." Riku sits next to her holding pieces of salt water worn drift wood in his lap.

"Do you?" She tilts her head.

"Yeah. Sometimes when I know what I need to do, but I have no idea how to go about it." Riku's hair sways in the lazy summer breeze setting in silvery clumps against his cheeks. "Do you feel like that?"

"That's exactly how I feel." she sighs sets her hands on her stomach, but changes her mind and sets them on the top of her thighs. "I'm afraid, and unsure of what I should do."

"You should do what my mom says." Riku nods his head watching the tide slow to soft tumbles.

"What does your mother say?"

"Do what feels absolutely right." He blinks and nods again in firm confirmation.

"Riku!" The sound of the little brunette boy drifts muffled by breeze across the shore line. "_Riiiikuuuuu?"_

"I'm coming!" Riku loudly replies with hands funneled around his mouth. "Sorry, I have to go. Hope you feel better, lady."

"I already do." She popped her knuckles and watched Riku scamper off with his arms full of wood and rope.

* * *

"Okay...I can do this." Inhale, exhale.

The night and the streets and the people are quiet. She gains little shreds of inner piece with each solid step back to her hotel. She had so much she _had_ to tell, and someone she _needed_ to meet again. But how? She didn't fully know, but one thing was for certain. She was going to do what felt right, even if part of her felt afraid.

She peered at the manila packet in her hands and shook of the urge to fiddle with what was inside. Papers, prescriptions, and something _other_. She would have to show it to her mother tomorrow.

...

Someone comes from the shadows to stand in her way.

"Oh, my. If it isn't the Greendown daughter. I've been looking for you young lass."


	36. Always Knew

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 36: Always Knew

Uncertainty, a fresh wave of anger, and agitation floods her senses. There was so very much to worry about and she only felt for certain that there was an ever ticking time limit. Six months for one thing, as she was so ruefully reminded last night, and a little under a year for another.

Was this really all she was left with?

Pale summer light glinted across the sides of her cheeks and crystallized the honey brown of her eyes. Cold dew coated her hands as she climbed flight after flight of apartment stairs. Wet paint chips cracked from the old railings and fell in flakes to the concrete. Each step quickened her heartbeat. She was nervous. She would have to tell her mother and father _everything_.

Well, almost everything.

"Here we go." She stopped in front of 57821's door and sucked in a shaky breathe. With an exhale she knocked.

"_Who is it_?" She could hear her mother from the inside.

"S'me."

"_Come on in. It's open!_"

"G'morning, Mamma." She murmured slipping around the door, closing, and shuffling quietly into the kitchen. She sat on a creaky wooden stool and let her elbows rest on a worn counter. Her insides squirmed and writhed like worms. Her mother looked chipper.

"How are you darlin'?" Lady Greendown chimed washing out a deep gumbo pan for tonight's dinner.

"I'm fine." Phoebe halfway lied. Physically she was somewhat fine. But, emotionally she felt absolutely sick.

"So?" Her mother prodded pursing her lips.

So?" She pulled at the joints of her fingers.

"How did your appointment with Toby go yesterday?" Lady Greendown raised a questioning eyebrow moving the tips of her short cut hair behind her ears and pushing her glasses farther up on her face.

"It went okay." Purposefully she batted around the subject. The manila packet she brought with her crumpled loudly on her lap.

"Okay? Well then what did he say? You check out okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"So there was nothing wrong...at all?" Lady Greendown squints her eyes.

"Um..." She tries to search for the right works. She hadn't been this scared of her mother's reaction since she was 16; two policemen had to escort her home for reasons that would even now take too much to explain.

"Um what? What was it? Internal damage, broken bones, cancer? You have to tell me something. Phoebe I'm only worried." Her mother stares her in her eyes. Their eyes are the same.

"No, Mamma. I'm...not sick. It's something else."

"Then what?"

"I'll show you." She takes another deep breath and opens the packet in her hands. Her mother watches on incredulously listening to the shifting of papers. From inside, her daughter pulls out a double-bar piece of light weight metal. Just from experience, in one look Lady Greendown can tell what the device is. She doesn't say anything just yet. She doesn't want to believe it at first.

Slowly, Lady Greendown moves from her place in front of the burning stove to her daughter's side. Phoebe pulls the smooth, thin metal bars apart. Between them a picture—a hologram—materializes. The picture is pixilated in black and white depicting a moving barcode of information at the top

PATIENT - GREENDOWN, PHOEBE

AGE - 26

PHYSICIAN - DR. TOBY B.

INTERNAL MATERNITY PROGRESS SHOT 1/3

and a flat-cone window of small movement at the bottom. The window's places of white shift messily outlining what the picture is meant to show.

"_Oh._" Lady Greendown whispers. One hand covers her mouth. Her daughter nods her head lightly, and then clicks the bars closed returning it to the inside of her packet. She looks for the second and third set of metal bars and frowns. They are not inside.

"_Phoebe Francheska Greendown_." Lady Greendown hasn't said her daughter's full name in a long time.

"I know, Mamma. I know." She hangs her head and tries to shake off the fact that the two other pocket holograms are missing.

"Now I'm not asking you. Tell me 'bout this man you've been running around with." Mother takes her daughter's hand and squeezes.

"_Charlie!_"

"Huh?" Her father answers from far off into the back of the apartment.

"Come here. In the kitchen."

Here we go.

* * *

I sit in the center of my hotel room thinking back on this whole stupid week.

First I find out that I'm pregnant. Not only am I pregnant, but I've been pregnant for a long time. Afterwards, I get told off by an old ,magical, evil hag. Then, the next day I actually have to tell my mother and my father that I'm pregnant. Resulting in me having to (vaguely) explain my relationship with the man I got pregnant with.

I bite my arm, and throw a pillow off my hotel bed. Hojo went ahead and decided to just let me stay here as long as I worked and helped out. I'm lucky people like me. Why? I have no clue.

"Argh, I wanna cry." I don't though. I look at the clock on a complementary night stand. It's three in the morning.

I. Can't. Sleep.

Toby warned me this might happen when I moved into my second trimester. I even think I'm starting to show. Just a little, tiny bit. The skin of my stomach is stretched firm over the slightly noticeable bump of my belly.

I shiver. I'm already fat. Now I'm going to get even fatter. I imagine what I might look like anyway. Maybe I'll be a cute pregnant lady? I'm too lazy to sick a pillow under my shirt and stand in a mirror. I stay where I am on my bed and stare at the blank black TV screen stationed on a mahogany dresser. I sigh. I feel dizzy, and my boobs and legs ache. This is going to be spectacular! Yep, I can already tell.

I close my eyes and frown.

What Maleficent told me a week ago still bothers me. But, hey. What does she know?

_" How laughable! Falling in love with a Heartless? The most heartless of them all at that? I always knew you for a bit of a wayward soul, Lass. But, look at you now." The shadows hung heavily under the Queen's eyes. _

_"I just came to remind you. You have a year left, but I think I may have finally found a fitting use for you. Your heart has seen what I want." She growls. "It's been too long for you to crawl back into his arms. He doesn't need you. Of course you can side with me again to regain the assurance of protection, and maybe your place back in that spot light you craved so much." _

Maybe more than I think...

I clear my throat of the taste of the vitamins Toby prescribed for me. I still feel like crying. I can't do this on my own.

Ansem has to know.

I have to go back to Hallow Bastion.

Hmmm, maybe later. I know what I _need_ to do.

But, shit. I _want_ fruit flavored ice cream.

* * *

Another month or so passes by and you take the initiative to meddle. You thought you deserved it. The hallways of the abandoned castle are quiet save for the chirping and scratching of stray heartless.

You gather your pride and flick dust from the horns atop your head. The hallways have fallen back to what they were before. Someone hasn't cleaned in a while. You sneer ignoring the sweat forming in your palms. The heat of July goes on into the night. It makes the pipes expand and creek from the walls and up above.

With your pointed chin up and bird observing from your shoulder, you move on your target. When at the familiar study, you knock before walking in the already opened double doors. He does not turn around.

"What do you want, _witch_?"

"Oh, nothing I came to simply check up on an associate."

"What links you to me is not here. Go away."

You can feel his seething in the air around you. You could place it at rage, but it was much more than that. You concluded that he was probably frustrated for obvious reasons.

"Oh, no no. I only came to send along a message."

"Go on."

"Time is drawing near. And your time as you are now is almost up, Xehanort."

"I am aware of that. Don't address me with that name." He snarls. "If you have nothing left to say, leave."

"You miss her. _Don't you_?" You try to hide your smirk.

He says nothing in return.

"I apologize." You slip something from within your cloak and set it on his desk, cautiously, next to his arm. He stares at the objects; his eyebrows furrowed. You back away as carefully as you neared. "I just thought you would be interested." You motion at your 'gift' with your eyes. "Xemnas sends his regards and ah, _best wishes_."

"Congratulations." You swiftly turn and walk out.

Oh, how you love to meddle.

* * *

Fatigued and _thoroughly_ agitated he retires for the night. His nostrils are flared with anger that been brewing for far too long. Maleficent came to toy with him, and he _knew_ it. Such _disrespect_. Oh, but he'd get her later.

He sifted through his coat pockets and pants pulling out random objects. A paper note, a test tube, a black-silver pocket watch…He stared at the numberless dials for a length of time before setting it gently to his side table…Another note and then two sets of objects he was unfamiliar with. Sweeping everything else aside he held the metal bars in his hands examining the sides, tops, and bottoms. How curious.

_Congratulations? _

Setting one on the top of his leg, he skeptically opened the other.


	37. Again

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 37: Again

The cog wheels turned slowly in his head. They mashed together and ground the information he had just viewed so he could assess the data. He analyzed the first, and now the second cold, hard strip of metal and the moving holographic images they produced. They rested smoothly between his fingers and thumbs. It processes very slowly even though he understood it perfectly.

"These are sonograms of a developing fetus," he confirms and states in his mind, but then he looks closer because it obviously holds some kind of significance to him. Why would he have them if they weren't? Restlessly, he shifts causing the mattress under his thighs to creek with his weight.

He feels slightly unnerved because he's waiting for it to truly click. He knew what he was looking at, but what was he looking at? He allows his eyes to wander the bright, flat hologram that illuminates and hard-shadows his face in the stale darkness of his bedroom.

PATIENT - GREENDOWN, PHOEBE

A familiar name. He zeros in on the moving bracket of text that strolls lazily across at the top.

AGE - 26

PHYSICIAN - DR. TOBY B.

INTERNAL MATERNITY PROGRESS SHOT 2/3

He allows his mouth to fall a centimeter agape and his eyes to squint. His concentration switches from the text to the fuzzy swaying outline of an unborn child.

His.

The wheels stop turning. He sets the devices down on his bedside near his pocket watch. For the first time, in a long time, he is unsure of what to do.

* * *

"What to do? What to do?" I contemplate and puff out my cheeks in agitation. It's the middle of July and my body is changing fast. It's no wonder my clothes are becoming snug. By now, I've gained a total of thirty-five pounds, but I've probably packed on more since my latest doctor's appointment. My mind swirls in a fog of different decisions. I've got way too much on my mind.

Sighing for dramatic effect, I shift through the box of maternity clothes my mother gave me. I let a small smile find its way onto my face. The different fabrics still smell of the old apartment and Lady Greendown's signature perfume.

I shed my own tuxedo blouse and peer expectantly into a hotel room mirror. I set both of my hands under the faint round of my bare stomach, but I should call it belly. That's what it's growing into. My tummy is small for now and gives me a pudgy appearance. Though, I look pudgy in general. Not quite pregnant looking, but boy is it getting there. I rub over the firm warm skin.

There's something growing inside of me. Feels...weird. Then I think of the father. Feels...awkward.

I rummage through the box in search of something comfortable to wear. I avoid some of the shirts that look like they would be for much later on; when I'm extremely noticeable. I pick out a white top with cute black buttons and cute black ribbons for my waist and arms. I tilt my head from side to side. It's reminiscent of the blouse I discarded; so, I slip it on, fit my bow-tie, do a couple of turns in the mirror, and settle with it for now.

I slip on some red flats I bought downtown and head out of the door. I breeze past the hotel desk on the lobby floor and avoid staying too long. If I linger more than five minutes there's always some man who wants to come and 'chat' with me. I tell them I'm not interested. I never am. I never was. _Interested._ In other people to be specific. Maybe that's why I'm so solitary. I don't really have friends, but I'm a-okay with that. Sometimes, I wish I did have more than myself to talk to. _About this_. I can't do this on my own. I need someone. I need...

The pain of loneliness settles in my muscles bringing back my prolonged fatigue. Maybe it's my shifting hormones that are making me this way, or maybe, I just miss Him. I miss him so much. But I'm angry, and afraid. He'll be just as angry as I am if I come crawling back. No, he'll be furious. I shouldn't have let this go on for so long.

Before I know it I've walked the many blocks and city boulevards to the same old apartment. I raise my balled hand to 57821's door, but I think better of it and go right in. I shut the door quietly behind me. My father is gone, as usual, but I spot my mother crocheting on the sinking couch. There's something sweet in the oven, and Swing plays lightly on the radio.

"So when am I going to meet the father?" Straight to the point. Lady Greendown pulls several rolls of snow white yarn from a basket. It looks like she's making a new pillow for the couch.

The sudden question causes me to pause. I walk slowly and sit on a drooping edge next to her. I suddenly feel the urge to escape to the Destiny Islands, or an Agrabah oasis.

"I..." I'm trying to think. "I'm not sure, Mamma." The thought of Ansem meeting my parents seems so odd. Like the merging of two worlds that were supposed to touch.

"I see. You know, I can't help feeling you didn't tell me everything last time you were here." She keeps her eyes trained on her neat pearly rows. Years of sitting alone in the quiet; years of practice.

"Oh." I stammer. "Mamma, He and I-," she raises her palm to stop me.

She sighs, but she's still smiling. "You are just like your father. If it's bizarre, I can handle it. I've seen a lot more than you think." The crochet hook she's using clinks against her long finger nails.

And so, I fill in the holes I purposefully left out before. The story is the same except it's not a general skeleton. She studies my face as I explain more. Her face stays relatively the same, but, my mother, unfortunately, can put two and two together. She seems surprised?

"So he's a heartless? My, that is bizarre." Her eyebrows furrow, and I can tell she's calling me a weirdo in her head. I never said he was one, but she caught on. It surprises me that my mother even knows what a heartless is. Makes me wonder.

"You always did sway to the unconventional." She gives me a funny face. "Well, damn."

I can't help laughing.

"I'll ah, assume that he's..._compatible_." she had to dig around for that word.

"Yes." I nod quietly.

"Does he treat you right?"

"Yes." When I think back, for the most part, he did.

"Now the real question is: _does he know?_" My mother purses her lips and pulls at her lead yarn.

"No." I rub my knees. My sweat turns three degrees colder. She knows I'm scared.

"Don't you think he should know? He _is_ the father."

"Yes, Mamma. You are perfectly right."

* * *

She steps through the swirling dark corridor and lets her arm fall limply to her side. Her palms are sweaty and cold like the toes wiggling in her shoes. She inhales deeply. The hallways of the Hallow Bastion fortress smell the same. Stale. Broken pipes and metal are still discarded in dirty, cobwebbed corners. Down she looks to the floor. It's covered in a thin layer of dirt and dust. If she can stay, she'd hop right to sweeping it. It bothered her to know that the dark pathways looked like they did before she had first arrived.

Willing her legs to move, she tip-toed to where she would expect him to be. Her blood thundered in her ears and her stomach churned. The closer, the louder the pounding. Past the Library, past the kitchen, past her old empty bedroom and she found herself in front of the large French doors of his private study. One side was generously left cracked open. She gathered her courage and slipped silently through the large space.

He wasn't there, sitting at his desk, like she was dreading. She let her rigid shoulders relax. "Not here." She whispered gave a look-around and turned slowly on her heel.

And there he was with one hand held to the door. His eyes sparked with a hint of surprise before it faded. For several minutes all they did was stare.

His bright eyes bore into her with pupils the sizes of pin points. She looked up into them feeling her knees grow weak along with anger she was supposed to have. Ansem was far better at being enraged. It's never shown on his face. She can feel it around him.

"Um, Hi." She murmured. He seemed so much taller and thicker than she remembered.

He approached her, bare chested, making deliberate steps. A hand extended towards her face. She squeezed her eyes shut expecting a hard, painful pinch to the bridge of her nose. It didn't come soon enough.

"You're trembling, dear." He whispered deeply in her ear.

"I am?" She tried to appear indifferent. Truly, she sounded winded.

"_OWWWW_!" Ah, there's the pain. He squeezed down tightly on her cartilage and twisted it slightly to the side.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" He growled. He let her go when he was satisfied with enough of her howling.

"Owww. Ow. Ow." She whimpered until she felt his lips pressed against her right temple.

"Haven't forgotten about me? Have you?" His warm breath floats softly through her bangs, and over her forehead.

"No." she swatted his hand and reached up to cup both sides of his face. "Now that I am here, I want an apology." His face hardened. He leaned down more to become level with her eyes. Her polished nails dug into his skin. Their staring contest began again.

"I…_apologize_." He leered.

"But," his sly smile vanishes. _"_I don't regret it."

She bites her lip in a frown. "I see how it is."

"And what about you?" he asks. His eyes became glowing slits in the growing darkness. Evening is slowly started to fade into night. Heartless screeched restlessly from random directions in the outer hallway.

"You want _me_ to apologize?" She pressed her lips into a tight line.

"Yes."

"Why should I apologize to you!" She released her hold on his face and pushed his shoulders. It didn't do much to separate them. He held in place; his face only inches from hers.

"For leaving me all alone?" He said innocently. "And for not telling me." He added ominously. She barely caught it after he left her space. Before she could question him herself, he had left the office all together and was moving soundlessly down the darkened hallway. She followed after him to the direction of his bedroom.

"Not telling you _what_?" She asked him suspiciously. Her heart thumped in her ribcage.

He paused and only turned his head her direction.

"That you were coming. I thought you were one of my weekly intruders." His face looks serious enough.

"Right." She crosses her arms encasing her palms under at her sides. "Ansem?"

"What?"

"I'm missed you, too."

He makes a noise of acknowledgment and keeps moving. She skips to his side wanting to follow him into his room, but when there, he stops her.

"Not with me, Phoebe." As much as he would like her company he pushes her from the door and poises it to close it in front of her face.

"Really?" She scowls.

"Shoo." He promptly shuts the door.

* * *

He commanded me to stay in my room, but I only follow orders for so long. Shouldn't he want me with him? I think about it, and he probably does. He just likes driving me into frustration because he finds some kind of humor in it. _Go to your room little girl_. Probably part of his customary punishment. I don't deserve it, but maybe I do. Who knows? Today went too fast for me, and I'm not sure if we're really okay. It's going to take a long time for it to be the way it was. Time to make up for the time we were apart.

It's sad, because I feel attached to him more than ever. It's as if my heart was starved of his darkness and I desperately needed it back. Somehow, I feel that that was only a small part of it. I love him, and I accept it. I'll pry a real apology from him later. Maybe something along the lines of holding him at the brink of sexual satisfaction? I don't know, but I'm too tired to argue more with him. I am glad I checked out of the hotel after I went to my mother's. It looks like I'm staying the night. Please, let me stay forever.

I crawl into bed at his side. He stares at me in an unfriendly way, but he doesn't move to stop me. Slowly I straddle, and curl in my legs at both sides of his waist. I lay my head on his chest and he pulls the covers up over my shoulders. A hot hand rests in the dip of my back. He's so warm. I missed this, too.

"You still mad?" I hum nuzzling into his neck.

"What do you think?"

"Stop being so damn mean. It's your fault I left." I stroke his stomach.

"I didn't tell you to leave."

"Technically, you did." I snort. We fall silent for a short while.

"Ansem?"

"_What_?" He sighs in annoyance.

My mouth goes dry. I think I should tell him now, but what if it ruins everything. Will he want me after I tell him? Will he even believe me?

"Never mind." No, not now. I try to calm my physical heart, but it's difficult to settle the emotions in the one I keep to my soul. I try to ignore my tenderness and the ache in my esophagus. Pregnancy symptoms. Ansem is going to notice eventually.

Tomorrow I promise I'll tell him. There are others things I have to do.


	38. Have

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 38: Have

My body seizes up. My eyes dart around a room that isn't of a hotel. Where the hell am I?

Oh!

Yeah.

I'm back...

I yawn. I would like to stretch my limbs, but I can't. A muscular, russet arm is snaked tight around my chest pressing me flush against Ansem's side. I peer up to find him dozing. I take a moment to stare. He's not asleep, but his face has softened considerably from rest. Except for the slight crease in his eyebrows, he looks completely content. I savor it, and burn the image in my memory, my heart. Seems like everything is him. That's exactly what I asked for, _isn't it_? I'm just calmed to lay here squashed in his arms.

"Ansem?" I whisper against his shoulder. The crease of his brow grows deeper.

"Annnsemm?" I ask again rubbing the tip of my finger against the tip of his nose.

"Mm?" He grunts and rolls onto his side. The hold his arm has on my chest moves to clamping around my stomach. That reminds me...

"Ansem, I need to get up." I play with the wiry gray bits of his arm hair. His skin feels divine stretched over his taught muscles. I trace a protruding vein in his forearm.

"Here." He sighs and lifts his arm to release me. His eyes crack open, and his stomach grumbles. I smile at the familiar sound. It makes me feel like I had never left, or that things may still be the same. But I know it's not that way. It won't be completely the same, not after today.

I sit up and stretch while he watches. He seems to be analyzing me. I can feel his focus wonder to different parts of my body before stopping at my face. His eyes narrow thoughtfully.

"Something wrong?" I ask him scratching at a bra strap under my nightgown.

"No, not at all." He hums with a voice deepened by inactivity.

"You were examining me." I pull my legs from under the dark sheets, and sit on top of the comforter.

He thinks about his words. "You've gotten plumper, dear."

Oh.

"I gained a little weight. Ate too well, slept too much." I shrug staring at my hands. "Does it bother you?" I hear him sit up behind me. The mattress creaks as he settles. Pressing himself against my back, he takes his time kissing my neck, shoulders, and face. "More of you to love..." He grins lopsidedly and squeezes my right butt cheek. I yelp. "And to play with." He adds.

_More of me to love?_

Love...huh. That's interesting.

"Quit it!" His fondling becomes ticklish, and I stop the groping before it goes any further. "You don't think I'm fat?" I mumble. My hands rest at either side of my face as I lay on my back.

"No." He looms over me and leans down at my ear. "I think you're expecting."

* * *

Her eyes are wide, and she's gone silent. You kiss her cheek and shake your head. With a sigh, you turn your body to a night stand drawer. You rummage through it until you find what you are looking for.

"These belong to you. Correct?" You tilt your head and hold two metal objects taken from the stand, in front of her. You have deductive reasoning, and concluded that it would be a while until she accumulated the nerve to tell you anything. It's better if you beat her to the punch.

You study her closely to gauge her reactions. She's probably doing the same. With all honesty the situation doesn't faze you. It's tapped into your curiosity more than anything.

"How did you...?" She sits up and takes them slowly, timidly. Cute, is she afraid?

"Maleficent sent me her regards, and a parting gift. She was being intrusive." Again.

She scowls. Anger sets in her features. "I should've known." She mouths with slightly grit teeth. Apparently, the ultrasound images were swiped in an engaging conversation.

"I'm upset, Phoebe." You feign exasperation. And here you thought you were being honest with one another.

"How can you be upset? I'm the one who's pregnant and thrown for a loop." She rubs her shoulders and avoids meeting your eyes.

You chuckle. "Maybe I would like to have known?"

"Ansem, I can never tell what you are thinking, or how you'll react. After being apart for so long I didn't know how to tell you. It was too sudden." She frowns finally meeting your stare.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Phoebe." Though, in some situations it's preferred without any other option. She closes her eyes and nods her head. She knows that. "Well?" She inquires.

"Well, what?" You answer her question with another.

"What are you thinking?" She holds a worried expression.

"To start, I wasn't aware I could impregnate you, dear, but it seems I can. Perhaps, I am enough of a man. Or maybe you changed enough to accommodate me. Darkness does mysterious things." You contemplate playing with her hair.

"To the point, please?" So impatient.

"Of course." You chortle. "I suppose I have an heir to a throne." You grin at her confused appearance.

"In other words, I don't see a problem." You roll from the side of the bed and on to your feet.

"Meet me in the Archives in an hour." If you were both going to be honest then you wanted no room for her absence to happen again.

* * *

"Do you know what I am, Phoebe?"

Of course she does, but he asks anyway. The Hollow Bastion corridors fade into varying shades of darkness before him. Whispers of dust settle in the pale beams of morning light that cast eerie geometric figures on the walls. The rhythmic dripping of pipes are the only echoes to fill the relative silence. That, and the scuttling, scratching, screeching of heartless as they navigated the hallways around them.

"A heartless." Her answer is only a little unsure.

"Good. What kind of heartless am I?" He knows she is still reading the encyclopedia.

"Pureblood?" She sets a hand at the curve of his back. He opens the door to the Archives slowly. It's dim and the water pipes inside still leak onto the carpeted floor.

She scrunches her nose at the hard, stale water stench. "What are you trying to show me?"

"You'll see." He crosses the room to a previously locked file cabinet on the floor. He picks up the hefty container and places it on top of a small desk. "Now dear, how does a Pureblood heartless come into being?"

"When someone loses their heart, a heartless is made from the darkness..." She trails in quiet thought.

"Precisely. I am created from the worst areas of a man's heart. Do you have any idea who that man might be?" He flips through several dampened files in the small container until he finds an area only for names.

'AELEUS'

'BRAIG'

'DILAN'

'EVEN'

He continues to flip.

'IENZO"

"Xehanort..." She exhales as soon as he's found the file.

'XEHANORT' He holds it out for her to see. From inside the folder she takes a dated photo. Her eyes follow the details of the young man's face; his tan skin, golden eyes, and silvery hair. It's similar to the large scale painting found in the separate office concealing the secret computer. "He looks so young. Was.—was this you?"

"In a sense, yes, and no." He leans against the chipping desk and observes her.

"Who was he?"

"I'm not sure. Xehanort was not sure who he was." He allows his eyes to fall closed. "The most I can summarize was that he was a researcher, apprentice, and was just as obsessed as I am." He gives a small smirk.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you know what a Nobody is?"

"No. No, I don't." She stays quiet. A hand over her sternum makes a futile attempt to soothe her morning nausea.

"A heart strong enough will not only produce a decent heartless, but also a Nobody. An empty, emotionless husk of who a person used to be." He pauses. "A Nobody does not belong in darkness, nor light."

"...Xemnas, is your Nobody." She's staring into the carpet as if she's piecing together shards of information.

"Ah, you catch on fast, Phoebe."

"Emotionless?" She offers him back the folder and takes his gloved hand. "What about you, Ansem? Can you feel?" She seems distraught. He puts the folder back and pulls her by the hand from the outdated room.

"I would have once said no in the days I believed my essence was ruled only by anger, and rage." He touches her face. "But, here I have you. To answer your question, the one you truly want to ask, I do love you. Do not worry." It's a vague foreign sensation whenever he comes into contact with her.

"But." He holds her in place.

"But?" The edges of her eyes are damp.

"I need your heart to share your spectrum, Phoebe; your emotions. Do you understand?"

She nods her head.

"Keep that in mind. Someone might come along and want what _you_ and I have." He hints, points to her heart, and then redirects to her stomach.

"Rest assured. I won't let that happen. Not to what's mine." He strides back in the direction of the living quarters with her close on his heels. No room for errors. Time was ticking, and he liked to be on schedule.

* * *

Well, that went better than expected.

"Toby, ah my doctor, gave me the thumbs up for this week." Then why do I still feel so _queasy_?

"Did he now?" Ansem hums and lazily searches through the many library shelves for notes he left wedged between old linen pages. I still can't tell what he's really thinking in that devious mind of his. His attitude is neutral, and that shouldn't bother me, but it does _just a little bit_.

"Strong heart beat." I nod my head, and adjust myself in a patchy library chair.

It's already late in the afternoon, and after a bit of begging, I was able to leave earlier today. I was a little late for my appointment, but Toby didn't mind. Toby never minds. It would have been a pleasant outing if it weren't for him ever-so-slightly prodding at who I was _with_. I never gave him full answers. I'm sure Toby assumes I'm with one of the city swingers who run wild through the west side of Metropolis in the late night. He probably also assumes he has a chance to get closer to me. He is highly mistaken. I am a long lost cause.

"Healthy?" Ansem murmurs. He truly is paying attention.

"Absolutely. Developing well." I smile. It's good news. I close my eyes. Ansem kind of took care of my daunting task for today. I check my internal list for anything else I needed to 'self disclose'.

"Do you know the gender?" He keeps asking me questions. He must be logging the information for himself. It makes me feel a little better to know he's investing his time. It's not a particularly excited demeanor, but it's good enough for me. He's interested and that's enough, even if he may have more of a perceptive agenda behind it. I want to see the outcome as much as he does. I absently rub my pudgy stomach in thought.

"Yes." Damn, I'm hungry. You know, you think you're supposed to eat what ever the hell you want and not feel fat when you're pregnant. In reality you virtually can't eat anything. Toby prescribed me maternity vitamins and game me a long list of food I love, but can't have. I cried on the inside that day. The first few months were 'I'm tired.' These months will be 'I'm so hungry'. I ate as much as my partner did this morning, and I'm not supposed to, but who's really watching me? I am watching me, and I am horrible.

More dramatic internal crying.

"Will you tell me?" He notices my inward distraction.

"Nope." I let my arms hang over the chair's arm rest.

"Why is that?" He leers with his eyes.

"I want you to pick out a name." I sway. So hungry. I wish he'd hurry up. He's taking his sweet time picking out, un-folding, and re-folding different slips of crinkled tanned paper.

"How would I do that with out knowing the gender, Phoebe?"

"That's what makes it fun." My voice isn't as enthusiastic as I want it to be.

"Is that so?" He sticks a couple of notes into his breast pocket.

"You know, my family has a tradition. Take me for instance, I have my first name, but my middle name is Francheska. Francheska is my mother's name. My mother's middle name is Ellen. Ellen is my grandmother's name, and so on. Get it?" It sounds a little confusing, but it's not.

"The mother's first name becomes the child's middle name?"

"Yes!"

"That's… unusual."

"I know." I agree with him. "Thought I'd share that, but you probably don't care, do you?"

"Not particularly."

I roll my eyes. I go back to thinking if I've missed anything. And I have missed something.

"Ansem, can I make a request?"

"Within reason." He seems satisfied with his scavenger hunt and stands over my pitiful position in the tattered chair. I reach out suddenly and seize around one his thighs. Let the begging re-commence!

"I have someone I want…need you to meet. Would you please do that for me?"

There is a excruciatingly long pause.

"_Fine_."

I hug tighter squishing the side of my cheek against the tense muscles in his leg.

"Thank you."

* * *

One look into her mother's eyes, and can tell she's a little more than astonished. She's afraid.


	39. On and On and On

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 39: On and On and On

My mother always reserves a special face for honest fear. I only see it every once and an apocalypse. I saw it, one time, when I was fifteen years old. Don't ask me what I did. I'm sure it was horrible. Now I stand at her side, and what do you know? She's giving Him that wide eyed, high-arched-eyebrow, slack jawed face.

"H-hello?" She stammers keeping close to my left. She crosses her arms close to her chest and shifts nervously like I usually do. Sometimes, I forget how unappealing Ansem can be. I can tell by her folding brows that she wants to break the uncomfortable stare he's got her in. I know that feeling. I'll take that as a good thing. I think this is going well.

"Hello." He replies and tilts his head to look between us. He seems perplexed.

The sun sets slowly in the west over Metropolis' skyscrapers. The Edge, as we call it, is a huge contrast from the constant beat of the metallic city off in the distance. The new August breeze sweeps gently over viridian blades of grass ruffling shrubs and the leaves of twenty foot climbing trees. The cliff we stand on whispers silently of my childhood. I missed this place, but I'm not here to play.

"You're her mother?" Ansem begins. The sun that begins to vanish behind his back causes my mother and I to slowly become eclipsed in his vast shadow. Eerie, I notice.

"That's right. You the Don Juan she's been running around with?" Mamma clears her throat. Now they're both sizing each other up. It would be much different if my father was here. He'd make me say something. This is odd enough already.

"That much is correct." He chuckles and shakes his head. "But, I'm no 'Don Juan'."

"That so? Ansem, right?"

"That is also correct." He pauses and extends his hand. My mother gazes at it for several seconds before timidly extending her own. When they shake, his hand completely encases hers and moves her entire arm. She sets her other hand on his to steady herself. She's winded when he lets go.

"It's good to finally know what you look like. I think..." Mamma adjusts her glasses. I can can feel the air become a degree colder as the sun drops lower and lower behind the multicolored horizon. Ansem's shadow has swallowed us both, along will a large expanse of meadow. It bothers me.

"I should say the same. It nice to finally meet your acquaintance, Lady Greendown. Your daughter is very...special. I'll be sure to take adequate care of her." The corners of his mouth twitch into a cunning smile.

"_You better_." My mother threatens, but friendly all the same. "Looks like we've heard of another. That right, _Phoebe_?" I jump.

"Uh, yeah." Oh, no.

"But I haven't heard enough." No. "Ansem, you wouldn't mind a nice chat would you? I think I should be on better terms with the father of my future grandchild, right?" Mamma purses her lips and squints matter-of-factly at me.

What are you doing? Stop it.

"I believe that's fair." Ansem shrugs his shoulders and nods his head. His eyes train on mine. "I'd actually like to know a little more about you." He turns back to my mother.

"Good, I think we should do that now. It's growing dark out." Mamma pinches my arm. I look back to The Edge. Ansem's shadow has expanded to every corner.

* * *

I observe her while she undresses. I'm am waiting, I understand she has something to ask after what has happened this evening.

"Ansem?" She's un-clasping her brassiere. She sets an arm under the growing swell of her stomach to steady her perch on the edge of the bed.

"What is it?" I ask, but I already know. Her mind has become easy to read.

"Why the long conversation?" She peers briefly over her bare shoulder. She has the nervous habit of rubbing her arms.

"Hmmm, it's what your mother wanted, dear. I didn't mind." I close my eyes.

"Oh."

"But why?" She's stripping off her underwear and throwing on a laced night gown.

"Your mother is familiar."

Her face shifts into one of confusion.

"Phoebe."

"Yeah?" She curls up under the covers and lays on her side. Her hand finds itself laced in mine. I stare at it. She hasn't bothered to braid her hair, it fans out in purple ribbons against her pillow.

"You look like your mother."

She gives me a small smile. "I know."

* * *

Did you know that our relationship is inversely proportional? The softer he becomes around me, the meaner he is when he's not. _Mean_ isn't even the proper word. His personality is more like malicious, or sinister. Evil. I already new what I was getting into. Still, I notice that he's changing. Little by little. He wants me more now, and later, theoretically kills a man, or two, or a couple hundred. You know, hearts don't hunt themselves.

I know how he is. I've been 'out' with him. It's absolutely despicable what he does to other people, but I never say anything. I watch in silence as an entire world dies in screaming agony. I realize it's probably because I don't care enough to tell him "No, stop!". What am I suppose to do any way? He could still change his mind and toss my body out with everyone else.

_If only he wanted to._

It makes me think. Snowballing fears drag through my head every now and again.

What about my home world?

What if he's still using me?

...

I shake those thoughts out eventually, and move on to something else reflective. It's interesting how he can be so cruel, and gentle at the same time. When he wants to push me (yes, he still pushes me) he shoves me at my higher hip instead of my stomach. I can see him change his mind at the last minute whenever he wants me out of the way. It's nice to know he's taken my pregnancy into consideration.

That's it! It's what he does physically, not all that he says. Let's be rational, Ansem rarely tells my anything, and when he does, he either:

A) wants to hurt my feelings

B) demands that I do something

C) is agitated into exposure

Or

D) wants me in bed

These changes, though, just make him a little more unpredictable. Last night, is a prime example of his growing spontaneity. In the dull shadow of his room, he reached across the covers with a hot hand and curiously rubbed my bloated belly. The touch was so tender, my drowsiness wouldn't let me understand. This morning I felt my insides whoosh and stir. My baby is moving. I am terrified, though I'm getting used to it now. So, what do I do? I have no idea.

Trips to my ah, doctor are reassuring, but that only goes so far. I just want to know what he's _thinking_. He flips me like a book, and reading his thoughts are like decoding the Rosetta Stone and translating it into English.

I stand to my feet. The top library shelves rattle with heartless precariously scaling the top. Books drop like over-sized hail to the tattered floor. I sneer. It's time to leave. I've been left to my self today. Sweeping, and sweeping, and sweeping some more. This dirt never wants to leave. I was only taking a break. These baby nudges, and the continuous cleaning are taking its role on me. I need a nap.

I stretch and there's another obscene kick to my insides. "Settle down in there!" I pat my stomach and turn distracted into the hallway. It's quiet for a while. I'll take a nap on the balcony to clear my lungs and nostrils of all this dusty air. The lazy breeze that drifts down the hallway cools the sweat that's collected on my skin. Pipes protest above me as they expand in the August heat. After my nap I think all go talk to Cid. I've got a pack of cigars to hand to him from Metropolis. I think he'll appreciate gourmet impalement. "Almost there." My baby must find my constant movement agitating. "Hold on would you?" Or maybe that's just me.

Someone is here.

"Why hello there, babe. Long time no see. Miss me?"

I jump. "No, nice arm sling." My whip comes to my palm at my side.

Can't I have a break?


	40. For the Most Part

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 40: For the Most Part

"Still snappy I see!" You sneer outwardly ignoring the girl's reference to your broken arm. She shuffles several paces in front you. With your one good eye you note her twitching fingers coiled tightly around a microphone handle. The long, deadly wire sways like a snake beside her bare feet.

"Now now Sugar Doll. I'm not looking for a fight. But, if that's what you want." You draw up your hands as if to surrender, but with the widening of one of your only usable palms, an index finger is in seconds locked into a loaded gun.

"What I want is to be left alone." she snarls. The muscles in her swinging arm tense. You aren't afraid. It looks like she hadn't learned her lesson from last time. When you move to approach her, she lashes without hesitation.

The quick crack barely grazes your cheek leaving a high pitched itching on your ears. "Whoa there, Doll!" She swings again. The air around you pulses with waves of thick dark energy. The metal material of the wide balcony vibrates with a chattering hum under the soles of your boots. You didn't have time for this.

"If I were you I'd leave." The girl strikes for your legs forcing you to make a last minute dart. You grit your teeth as your back collides with the hot metal of the balcony rail. Another loud crack and the sharpened spur drags a long nick against your face. It cuts deep over your eye brow. Warm blood gushes from the wound, flowing over and under your eye patch, and dribbling down your cheek. If there was more darkness to back up that attack, you would have had another permanent scar to add to your collection.

Finally, there's an opening. You take the opportunity before it's gone. In a small pause, you disappear in wisps of purple-black, and reappear soundlessly at her side. That's enough.

"And if I were _you_, I wouldn't move."

You jab the bright end of the barrel into the side of her neck. She jumps, panting, and glares knives from the corners of her eyes.

"I'll say it again. I ain't lookin' for a fight. You got two choices. You either come quietly."

"I'm not going anywhere!" She interjects viciously jerking her head. You yank her hair, and she hisses.

"You either come with me, and we'll have you back safe and sound. _Or_, I can shoot your pretty little jaw off." You grin. It's wouldn't be of any inconvenience to you. Xemnas wouldn't be 'happy', but since when did you care?

"I'm. not. going." She spits.

"Well alright." The grip you hold on her hair stays firm. Her eyes follow the slow movement of the gun barrel from jutting against her neck, to tapping lightly against the soft round of her stomach.

"That's kind of selfish of you, don't you think? What with you being all knocked up. Daddy wouldn't be very happy, would he?"

She stares.

"Speaking of that, you might want to hurry and make your decision before he comes back. I think we'd both be in a twist."

* * *

Her arms are crossed, mouth drawn into a tight line, and all but dragged through the cold construction of Xemnas' castle. Xigbar continues on with his snide comments. Something about the birth of demon-children, and apocalypses. She scowls saying nothing in return. Soon, Xigbar stops giving her enough time to soothe the rash he's given her wrist.

"I brought you what you wanted a second time Boss Man. I'm done." He scowls agitating his cut with knitted brows.

"That's more than enough." Xemnas waits with Vexen far off to his right. "You may leave."

"Whatever. See you later, Sugar Doll." Xigbar waves mockingly before fading into the dark shadows of a winding staircase. A sickening quiet follows after his absence.

"Welcome back, Mrs. Greendown. I apologize for the sudden... summoning."

"It's not like I was doing anything important." She murmurs staring at her arms.

"Ahh, well you see. We are in need of your assistance. It seems we didn't acquire enough of it the last time you were in our company." A room railing materializes under his outstretched hand. The pale passage way, between going upstairs and downstairs, is nearly complete.

"Can we hurry this up? I'd like to be home before dinner." She catches Vexen shuffling nervously near a lab hallway entrance. Xemnas intimidates him, and the conversation is deemed uncomfortable.

"Of course. I completely understand." He gives Vexen a look she doesn't understand. "Do how you seem fit, Four, I'd like to keep on schedule with our data collection." Xemnas conducts a swirling corridor. "I will be in the _chamber_, Vexen." He pauses. "Oh, and Phoebe, I hope you are coming along well." He departs.

* * *

"Thought he'd never leave." Vexen shivers disdainfully. "_Come along!_ No time to waste!" He ushers her with swift flicks of his hands. "Come on, into the lab." She is slightly more at ease around the scientist, but not by much.

"What are you supposed to be doing—to me?" She asks incredulously. The dim lights of the lab flicker over head. The room is unnaturally cold, ice cold, and filled with a wide array of machinery and tools. Papers, syringes, breakers, Bunsen Burners, heart monitors, you name it it's sitting there somewhere.

"Good question, young lady. We won't be doing anything too ah, tedious. I'll just be sampling a few more of your memories." Vexen's mood seems to have radically changed. The thought of research has excited him. He's already pulling out files filled with notes long enough to rival Ansem's studious tendencies.

"My memories?" She shivers wrapping around herself. The chilly, stale air gives her goose flesh. She watches Vexen buzz about pulling out his utensils.

"Yes, your memories. You've seen what we are looking to replicate. Your memories are the perfect templates to go by. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to decipher the memories from your off-colour heart last time." He taps tentatively against the side of a full syringe.

"It's Kingdom Hearts. Isn't it?" She sighs wincing. Nudges to her insides come and go.

"Precisely..._Oh!_" Vexen studies her apprehensively. "You are pregnant."

"You just now noticing?" The continuous standing makes her legs hurt.

"Of course not, woman! I simply made a conclusion about your second heart." He grumbles. "It's a bit obvious now, doesn't it?" He seems to mutter to himself.

Vexen reaches for her suddenly. She flinches. "Your arm." He rolls his bright green eyes. Blonde hair sways as he tilts his head to apply an alcohol filled cotton ball to her inner arm.

"What is that for?" She yanks.

"Well do you want it to hurt? I don't think you should like the sensation of having your soul ripped open and sifted through. It'd be better if I sedated you."

"No! And, for your information, I _do_ happen to know what that feels like. It won't matter if I'm sedated."

"There isn't any time for compromise. Either you are sedated, or you comply with full pain. This process is meticulous! Choose!"

"Fine." She drags. "Give me the damn shot. This better not hurt me, _or_ my baby."

"I assure you everything will be quite fine." The academic gives her a sly smile and inserts the needle.

Lights out.

* * *

"How was it, Even?" The Superior's voice carries from one side of the hall into the other. It echoes like an omniscient deity startling you from your deep concentration.

"I believe it went well, Sir. I have all that I need to start Kingdom Heart's frame work. All there need be are hearts to fill in the space. As I stated before..." You avoid eye contact. You were nothing. Felt nothing, and yet, you were unnerved by Xemnas' reappearance.

"Excellent. I have another job for our replica program."

"What would that be?" You questioned curiously.

"To what quantity were her memories collected?"

"More than enough. Will her memories be used for something _else_?"

"Indeed." Xemnas smirks. "Your second task is to replicate her. I think that could give you enough basis for research on the further creation of other replicas in the future."

"When do you need this by, Sir?"

"Tomorrow. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Xemnas."

"Good, notify Saïx, won't you?"

* * *

I wobble past the balcony doors. The night is breezy and peaceful, filled with the singing of late summer crickets. I can not stop to enjoy it. My legs are filled with gelatin, and my stomach growls like the prairie wolves here at night. On top of that, my chest _aches_. Oh, it aches all over again; like I had been stabbed in my sternum fifty times and someone left the knife wedged there in the bone for good measure. I promise I am never going back to The World that Never Was again.

"Shhhh, I know, Sweetheart." I rub my belly apologetically. I'm not sure which to do first. Eat, or rest? If I rest, I know I won't get back up. If I eat I won't want to move from the kitchen, let alone if I have any strength to rummage through it.

"Shhhhhh." More subtle persuasion. More belly rubbing. What is wrong with my life?

Oh, everything.

I sigh and settle with reheating pieces of turkey leg on the stove. I'm so tired. I spend most of my waiting time throwing my weight on the kitchen counter. Some bread and a small glass of wine (god, to help me sleep) complete my crummy meal. I'm satisfied for now.

I begin to comb out my matted hair on the way to Ansem's bed room. I freeze halfway. He glides past me without a word. It looks like he's just gotten back from where ever he went.

"Me, too." I think to myself empathizing with the tiredness he must also feel.

He throws some of his clothes to a hamper, and other articles to the floor. Bloody cuts litter the sides of his lower legs. I can see them as he pulls off his boots.

"Ansem?"

"I'm fine." He sways into the bathroom and shuts the door. The sound of rushing bath water follows after, filling the silence in both rooms. He doesn't seem suspicious of me, so I ignore my fatigue for the time being and follow after him.

"Ansem." I call again. He's trying to ignore me. He continues in silence pulling off the rest of his garments until he is completely bare. When the tub is full he sinks into the scorching hot water with a heavy sigh.

"Me, too." I think again. I would gladly join him, but I doubt he's in the mood.

"Ansemmmm." I nag.

"What is it, dear?" He asks, voice even.

I drag over to the bath and pull up a high stool to sit on. I plop down behind him and wrap my arms around his damp shoulders. Puffs of steam settle on my skin and help me to relax. "Are you sure you're okay?" I massage the back of his neck and shoulders. I try to keep the edge of the tub from pushing too much against my stomach.

"I am fine." He assures squeezing his wet hand around one of mine.

"I hope so. Where'd you go today?" I trail grabbing a comb and sweeping out knots from his long, wet hair.

"No where in particular. Where did you go today, hmmm?" He pinches my arm roughly.

"Ow!" I shriek. "No where in particular." I mirror. He got me where I was sore.

He grunts clearly unconvinced. "You smell."

"Excuse me?" I spread my hands wide over each side of his chest. The tips of my fingers disappear under the burning water.

"You smell of them." He hisses. "Nobodies. But we can fix that." Before I know it, he's turned around and pulled me bottom first into the tub.

"Ugh!" The heat of the water shocks me at first. It soaks through my clothes, my hair, and heats me down to the bone. It takes several minutes to get used to.

"Stop whiney woman." Ansem's hands press into my sides, roaming under my blouse urging me to undress. When I've removed my soaked garments I throw it over the edge of the tub, and on to the tiled floor. I straddle his lap under the water and lay my head against the right side of his chest.

"You aren't worried?" I ask timidly. It should anger him. Ansem doesn't take these kinds of things lightly. I feel he should have backed me into a corner for an interrogation, or his favorite, twisted my nose till it burned.

"I'm not worried. I'm unsettled. There is a difference." He pushes my shoulders up until I meet his face. He holds me in a hardened glare. "Would it pain you to simply do what I ask?"

"Ansem, I-"

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

"You've given away a tool, and who knows what can be done with it." He growls at me. "Do you ever think that sometimes, _sometimes_, I do things to protect you?"

...

"Yes." I whisper, hicking. "But don't you ever think that I do things because I'm _afraid_? I can't help my heart."

He takes my face in his hands extending my neck. "You can fear me, but you don't _have_ to be afraid." He holds me there glowering deep into my eyes.

Abruptly, he stands as if I've deterred him from staying longer. With a grunt and a knowing look in my direction, he stalks up, and out of the tub. Water rolls down his russet skin like rain on a fogged window. He leaves splotches and puddles on the floor, snatches a towel off the bathroom counter, and disappears behind the door into the dark of his room. I guess he's upset.

I curl my legs in (as much as I can) and sit in lonely silence. I just want to feel right. But, with every decision I make, that never happens. Not now, not then. Maybe, if I had never met Maleficent in the tower. Maybe if I had never danced, or fallen in and made love with a grim reaper.

I shake my head. I shouldn't dwell on these things. I groan looking around the room and fiddling with the ring I never remove from my finger. My forearms dangle on the tub's rim. I don't think I have any energy left, but I suppose I'll have to clean up anyhow.

I probably need to hurry, too. "I can hear Big n' bad huffing in the other room." I comment out loud. I smile in spite of myself. I haven't called him that in a _long_ time.

Up we go. I add more water to the floor.

* * *

"Ansem."

"..."

"Ansem."

"..."

"_Annnsemmm._"

"..."

"Please turn over. Please?" She whines. Damp hair riddles her face in random clumps.

"..."

"Aaannnseemmmm. Please? I promise I'll stop if you face me. Please, please turn." The moon beam that pierces through a window casts a bright patch across the smooth line of his naked back. She concentrates on his scars since she can see his face beyond the bed pillows. "Ansem, hurry you'll miss it!" A raspy whisper.

"Miss. what. woman?" His voice is clear and agitated.

"You have to turn over. _Hurry_!" She presses repeatedly against his lower back with the ball of her foot.

He flips over, violently, to face her. "_What_?" He snarls.

"Calm the hell down and give me your damn hand." She snatches him by the very top of his wrist and jerks up her nightgown with her other hand. "Feel." She gingerly presses his palm against a specific section of her belly.

"I do not feel anything."

"_Shhhh_!" She scrunches her face "Wait."

"... ... ... !"

And there was a kick.


	41. Not Enough

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 41: Not Enough

The silence that fills my ears is almost unbearably loud. The thundering organ hidden in the cavity of my chest rattles against the hardened rungs of my ribcage. I can feel it pulsing in my ears and fluttering under the hot, darkened skin of my neck. I do not feel human. Because I am not.

But what I sense now is very close. Something is not...as it should be. My body knows, but I do not.

I am suspended in a depth of darkness that is unfamiliar to me. Unfamiliar, yes, but it is welcome. The sheet and cover of black stretches far in every direction wandering off into infinity. I relax and confide myself to the inner workings of my mind. A blessing some would say considering who I am —what I am. Heartless, by nature are mindless, ravenous creatures. I am different.

"Where have I ventured to now?" My focus wanes. My thoughts are too jumbled to configure how I've gotten in this blank place, alone, and completely bare. I lift and extend my arm to form a corridor. The result is nothing. I try again. Still, there is nothing to give me a clear exit.

I suddenly become uncomfortable. The air around me grows warm and sultry turning my breathing into another discomfort. The human form is inefficient and an occasional liability. I note this prudently. But, this is what I am stuck with, and I can't say that it has been completely un-useful or un-pleasurable. I sigh, moistening my lips and taking another attempt at narrowing my jumbled thoughts.

Sudden alarm causes my fatigued muscles tense. There is a low burn at the back of my throat. I clear it hoping that the pain will ebb, but it does not. My breathing, beginning in slow puffs, crescendos into ragged panting. This annoys me for I'm sure I look like some lolling dog. Something is quite wrong, but nothing in the endless darkness that surrounds me has changed.

Without warning the air freezes. The shift from warm to cold jars on me as if I'd sunk under an arctic glacier. I call on my own voice, but it is caught in my staggered breath. Soft puffs of steam rise from between the canines of my parted mouth. I can not properly breathe. My physical heart beats louder, desperate between my lungs.

And then I feel it. The burning in my throat snakes downward setting my neck and chest in agony. I try twist and turn only to surmise that I can no longer move. My chest heaves, my teeth grit, and my stomach does the same as the fire spreads.

My vision is blurred, blurred by the growing glow of Light. The light is so hot that it seems cold. In utter horror, I realize that this Light is emitting from myself. It blazes a hole right through my chest, splitting my body apart, and leaving my dark flesh eroded and raw. It does not stop there. From my stomach the blaze travels past my navel and down my legs. It sparks carnal lust in my loins. I can only convulse in more unearthly pain as the Light consumes and eats at my body like hydrochloric acid.

I scream. Bubbles and blisters of light blind my eyes. I slowly wear away into oblivion. My life becomes speaks of shimmering dust drifting aimlessly in the dark. This may be what it feels like to die.

* * *

You open your eyes and find them met with another pair. Your woman leans over you lips pursed and brown two-toned eyes concealing worry. You exhale very slowly. You had been holding your breath in your sleep.

"Hey?" She nervously bites her lower lip. Even through your slight disorientation, you found it attractive.

"I am fine." It is customary to answer in this way.

"That's what you always say." She sticks out her tongue. Not in playfulness, but in slight annoyance. You shift ruffling the bed sheets around you both before settling again. You have a pounding headache and your stomach is empty.

"What is today?" You ask laying your head back against the space between her breasts.

"Today is August 25." She sets a small firm hand against your forehead, and then against both of your cheeks. "It's Saturday." She elaborates checking for any sign of a fever.

"I see." You shut your eyes. "What have you cooked this morning, dear?" The faint aroma that fills your nostrils is a good one. It makes your hollow stomach whine in agony.

"Nothing special. Backed biscuits and re-cooked turkey. Would you like some?"

"That would be nice. Yes."

"Should I bring it to you?" She sat up and crossed her arms. She folded her knees above the covers, hair pinned up behind a scarf like a 40s house wife, and legs covered in smears of cleaning powder.

"That would also be highly appreciated. I can see you've been busy this morning, Phoebe."

"You could say that. Sorry I didn't wake you before, but I seem to rouse you on the wrong side of the bed when I do."

"True." you leered.

"Are you really sure you're fine, Ansem? You've been acting odd all this week." She frowns rubbing both sides of your neck.

"I am sure. Now, go before my stomach consumes itself." The hunger made you nauseous. She heaved herself up slowly, bending her arms to support her back and the weight she carried. You watched the movement of her legs as she passed out of the room's doors.

You waited eagerly in the quiet for her to come back. The clock positioned on her side read that it was well into the afternoon. You shook your head. Another week had slipped through the hour glass' waist. "Soon, very soon." You thought. All of your hard work would be brought fourth. You only needed to continue your task of drowning the worlds in Darkness. A little more patience would also help.

You stared upward at the clusters of pipes that ran through the ceiling. It seems you had a nightmare. Not only were your dreams rare, but nightmares had become as equally scarce. You only dreamed of what was important, and couldn't help but feel weary because of it. Your nightmare had meant something, just as the dream of the little girl had. You just couldn't figure out what. However, one thing was clear. You needed the Jar again.

"Here we are." The strengthened aroma of food motivates you from your laying position on the bed. You sit up abruptly in anticipation for your well over due meal. Four biscuits with plenty of honey juxtaposed to a generous amount of turkey meat lain tantalizingly on a plate. She sets a full cup of iced water on the night stand to your side.

"It's thirty five after two." She lingers closely watching your face.

"And?" You urged her on as you wolfed down your late breakfast.

"I have an appointment at three o' clock, and then some preparation with my mother."

"How long do you plan on being absent?"

"Not too long. It'll only be a few hours. I should be back by four o'clock. Maybe six. " She looked up in thought before bending down to rummage through her carrier bag. "Here." She handed you a pill bottle.

"Aspirin?" You examined the label and gave her a suspicious look.

"You looked like you had a headache." She shrugs. "You should actually take some this time."

"No thank you." You gave the bottle back. You were no stranger to pain, and liked to deal with it without help or word.

"I'm worried about you." She cocks her head sideways and nervously pulls at her fingers. An unusual habit. You wished she'd stop doing that along with a couple of other things.

"Don't be." You mouthed disappointed. You hoped the food would have lasted longer. Somewhat satisfied you finished by downing your water. "As I said, I am fine." You lapped up oozing honey that mysteriously found itself on your forearm.

"Yeah yeah." She sighed. From the corner of your eye, you watched her edge closer. She swayed alluringly on her hands and knees and settled timidly at your side.

"Is there something you want?" You slurred knowing full well what it was. You could see it in her eyes.

"Maybe." She blinks leaning up to meet you as you leaned down. You sigh through kissing her softly. It had been so long that you'd almost forgotten what she tasted like. Her lips are soft, and full, and sweet. It makes you hungry all over again. The tip of your tongue grazes her lower lip , and with her subtle permission you slip in. You kiss deeply treading your tongue along her own. Hands pull at her long purple hair, and arms wrap heavily around your shoulders.

"When is your appointment again, dear?" You purr and move from kissing her lips to lavishing her neck.

"Ooo, three." You can feel her trembling. You set a hand on the round of her stomach and stare suggestively into her eyes.

"You are going to be late."

* * *

"You seem happy." Toby hums. He's chipper and smiling per usual.

"Is it showing?" I casually ask. I was hoping no one would notice.

"Yeah, what's got you in such a good mood?" My mother asks from my side. She eyes me incredulously.

"Don't know."

"Probably the set of vitamins I prescribed you. They should be helping you keep your hormones balanced. No more fatigue?"

"Sure." Let's go with that. I smile when he looks my way. "I've gotten some of my energy back."

"Good. Well, you are on your final leg. Hopefully your last trimester will be as smooth as the others. We will be ready for your new born in very late December, very early January."

"We're prepared." Mamma squeezes my wrist.

I'm just kind of winging it, but whatever helps her feel better. I think she may be more excited than I am.

"Have a name in mind?" Toby prescribes something else on paper in his scribblely handwriting.

"Hmmm, not really. I'm waiting on my 'spouse' to come up with something." I puff out my cheeks. I'd really like a nap after already being so active today, but I have this, and something else Ansem wants me to do for him. I suppose I'll look forward that. Destiny Islands _is_ a little paradise.

"Has he?" Mamma crosses her legs and sets her palms down on top of her knees.

"I'm not sure. I haven't asked him if he's thought of anything."

"Maybe you should ask." She suggests. I will...eventually.

"Alright, Ms. Greendown?" He straightens a stack of my information and hands me some of my newest pregnancy updates.

"Hm?" He sounded more like he was asking me a question. "Something wrong?" I hop down from a cushioned bench stationed in the center left of the medical room.

"Ms, or Mrs?" He doesn't look at me, but he sounds curious.

I stare at the hard black-silver band fitted snugly on my ring finger. "Mrs." I tell him. I might as well be.

"Oh." Dr. Toby Blair nods his head. His chestnut hair bounces from side to side as if he's weighing something in his mind. "I didn't know you were married." He pushes his glasses farther up on the bridge of his nose.

"Neither did I." My mother interjects and folds her arms. Her tone is sour.

I shrug my shoulders. "I guess I had found the one for me."

* * *

I set the heavy porcelain container back in its area under my desk. The contents that sloshes within it does not leave a taste in my mouth, but it does help me to feel rejuvenated. As of late, though, the relief I usually receive has been losing its desired effect. I sigh, looking up, and squinting at the office doors. Someone is here.

I stalk slowly down the hallway. The patterns of light that glint across the fortress floors slowly fade as dusk approaches. I single out the sound of small foot steps at the other end closer to my bed room.

"Hey." A smiling face. It is my woman, but something about her is odd.

I say nothing, edging closer to discreetly examine the reason for my sudden skepticism. I look her up once or twice, but I don't find anything wrong visually. She raises an inquiring eyebrow at my most likely furrowed expression.

"What's wrong?" She asks lips parted, and hips swayed in the direction I'm going.

"Nothing."

"If you say so." She wobbles tiredly on her legs. Arms bend awkwardly to support her back. He continues to observe her as she passes him by and moves behind the door to his room. He leaves it wide open following after her.

"Did you watch them?" He asks ambiguously.

"The kids? Was I supposed to go to the islands today?" She tilts her head in confusion.

"Yes, you were." He growls prowling in a semi circle around her.

"It must of slipped my mind."

"It seems it did." He keeps an even face.

She plops nonchalantly on the side of the bed and curls her legs under her. She uses one small hand to comb through her hair. The mattress sinks as slowly as he sits.

"What?" She acknowledges him by moving her rounded chin. Her eyelashes flutter.

"..." No words. He places a hand on her shoulder and slowly drags his palm along her collar bones. She exhales in approval and leans into his touch. His fingers tease at her pulse, move from the soft spot under her ear, and back down to constricting around her windpipe.

"_Ugh!_" She attempts to gasp in shock, but he's already dragged her by her neck from the bed and on to the floor. Wrathfully he suspends her from the ground. The iron grip around her neck crunches tighter and tighter. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, the color leaves her face, her voice slowly dies, and her arms fall limp at her side. There is a simultaneous, blood freezing shriek when he nonchalantly snaps her neck. The defined _crack _is satisfying.

* * *

It falls to a crumbled husk on the floor. How disgusting. I curl my lip swiping a ticking tongue under a sharp canine. Such a beautiful face, now it's leaking blood from its mouth on to my carpet. It's going to leave a stain. Absolutely disgusting.

I glower at it as its synthetic body slowly starts to chip and fade away. The face and the body are nearly perfect, but the heart is not the same. It is not discolored, and a part of me is not inside, hidden in the dark. I note more of the thing's features. Its bloated belly appears full, but I know and feel that nothing is within.

I am not sure of what this thing is, but it is _not my woman._

"Phoebe." She has such horrible timing. I glance at her through the open door. She has sunk to the floor against the wall in the hallway. One hand covers her mouth; another is tangled in her hair. Moisture lines the edges of her widened eyes and I can quite clearly see her shaking. She appears traumatized. _That_ is my woman.

I sigh heavily grasping the thing by its ankle and dragging its remains down the hallway.

"Come, Phoebe."


	42. Start

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 42: Start

How does life go on? How do I go on given all these circumstances?

The truth is I'm terrified with every single right to be.

I've lost my appetite. I stare at the fork perched between my fingers. I tap it anxiously against the rim of a plastic bowl. My eyebrows are creased in distant thought. Curling my lip in a silent snarl I continue eating anyway. Just because I've lost my appetite doesn't mean my baby has. I massage the pads of my fingers in to my temple and gnaw on fork tips. Something like the muffled crunch of bone joints echoes in my inner ear. I flinch and shiver. The kitchen is silent and empty besides myself. I keep glancing at the doorway like he'll come for my neck, too.

_That could have been my neck._

Hell that was my neck. Only it wasn't...

I shove myself from the top of the counter and sluggishly wobble to the slightly rusted kitchen sink. I toss in my now empty bowl hearing the scratch of silverware against the iron bottom. I bend my arms to support my back and waddle into, and down the hall.

I keep my head low and strain my ears for random sounds. I'm paranoid of foot steps, but all I hear are an assortment of Heartless calls. I've noticed that they've started to tread more carefully around me watching like predators from their beady yellow eyes. The Heartless stalk about as if they're waiting for something.

Ansem said: "They know what you are in regards to their master."

I said: "What?"

Then Ansem said (not before sighing in agitation): "They sense that you are bearing my offspring, dear."

And I replied (avoiding his hands because he keeps touching my neck to assure he won't murder me): "What would knowing that change?"

And Ansem said as a final comment (scowling something nasty because I won't let him come near): "It changes nothing, and everything. They would spare no time chewing out your hearts if they didn't know you had courted and bred with me."

Here I would like to note him referring to me as a breeding partner, mate , whatever you want to call it. I don't necessarily like the ring of that. I sound like some tool. Then again, I'm not sure where I stand personally with him. Am I his girlfriend? Are we lovers? Common law? No title seems appropriate, or sounds right.

The hallways are just as silent as the kitchen. I'm thankful that the cooler air of September had stopped the pipes from creaking. It had been annoying. It was even worse when they had steamed up and burst. But even September is far behind me. The winds have changed. Though Hollow Bastion sadly has no trees, I'm sure if it did, this world would be gusty with Autumn crunch and color.

I puff out my cheeks and glance around Ansem's bedroom. He's in his study, but I still take caution sitting at the edge of his bed. I can spend October, the beginning of my last trimester, finishing up my preparation. The idea of child birth smacks me against the back of my neck. Wait, no. That smack was Ansem appearing beside me. I ignore his sudden entrance and stare vacantly at the dried dots of blood at a point on the carpeted floor. I flinch inwardly. The the image of myself lying dead at his feet unnerves me greatly.

He could _always_ kill me.

I feel his cool fingers tracing lazy patterns over my stomach. It's early in the morning, but he hasn't lain down since the day before yesterday. The curtains are drawn leaving his room in its customary dusty darkness. Faint early light from the window cracks catch the fire in his eyes. He looks very annoyed with me,

and sick.

* * *

"You are angry." I speak after a long moment of studying her blank face. She's gazing at the stain the replica left in the carpet. She turns to look me in my half lidded eyes. I readjust my facial expression to appear slothful and indifferent. Seeming slothful is the easy part. My body has taken up lethargy that I don't appreciate. Seeming indifferent is hard to muster. Quite obviously, I am not.

"Not angry." She mumbles.

"Speak up." I can hear her perfectly.

"I'm not angry. I'm afraid." She rubs her neck.

I know she's afraid, but we have had this talk many times before. "Phoebe." I breathe.

"I know. I know what you said. I don't have to be afraid, but I am." She tucks her legs under herself and rests her forearms on her protruding stomach.

"Then you don't trust me."

"I trust you. It's the way you think that makes me pause. Tell me what you are thinking, please." She turns to me, frowning.

"I think you are overreacting."

"_No I'm not._ You didn't think twice when you ended that replica's life!"

I know what she means. "Because it was a toy. A fake. That thing was _not_ you."

"But it had my body, my voice, _my face_."

"Phoebe-" She cuts me off.

"Real or not, how could you look into such a familiar face and not pause. It didn't pain you to do it? Did it?"

"No." Honestly, it hadn't.

She noticeably deflates, her jaw is tightly clenched.

"I'll tell you what I was thinking."

"Tell me then. I want to know." Her tongue presses against the inside of her cheek.

"I took the replication of such a beautiful face, as an insult." Her eyebrows ease and un-tense. "I wanted the horrible excuse for a copy immediately eradicated. Perhaps, I didn't handle that as well as I should have." I'm no stranger to ending lives.

"You snapped her neck. It was goddamn_ horrific_." She hisses through her teeth. "You know how horrible it was to watch myself die! I had a damn panic attack!"

"I saw." I roll my eyes. "I'm helplessly insensitive. Guilty as charged. I wasn't expecting you to walk in on the execution, dear. So, what have learned today?" I lay on my back and close my eyes. This will be the first time I've manually slept in a month.

"That you're a horrible, destructive person."

"Guess again. We already know that." I mumble.

"That you think I'm beautiful, and that you other half has it out for us."

"Me. He has it out for me." I correct.

* * *

The passing air of October brings news on its cooler winds.

The time has come for a bearer to wield the key.

November's blind cold predicts that things will soon change.

* * *

"I need speak with you." His eyes gleam into the darkness of his bed room. He looks at me sternly. I can tell that he means what he says. _He needs to talk to me._ About what, I'm not sure.

He continues to stare as he begins to undress himself. The shine of a full moon dusts faintly over his back and shoulders making his hair and body glow.

"Of course, Ansem." I eye him in confusion. He suddenly flings open a dark corridor. Slowly, he steps through it in nothing but his underwear. I follow him without a clue as to where he's leading. My heart drums steady under my sternum and my teeth chatter. I'm nervous. The blank black darkness is stale around us. It's only in the eerie silence that I notice the pain in my feet. The aching in my...everything. I am tired, and so very ready to have my baby. One more month. Any day now I think staring aimlessly in front of myself until Ansem unveils a clear exit.

I hear him inhale deeply. The night- like fragrance of an ocean fills our nostrils. I breathe in the scent of the Dark Margin. This place smells a lot like him minus the rich sent of wood and a stronger stench of darkness. I shiver watching the muscles roll under his firm skin. He continues until the shoreline tries to consume his toes. He tugs off his underwear, moves farther in, and waits for me. The water rushes softly around his thighs.

Understanding, I pull off my own clothes and undergarments. I'm not sure what to do with it, so I place under the shadow of a blue cracked rock. Once I have them tucked away, I tiptoe through the sand and into the lukewarm embrace of the low tide. He surveys my naked body absently brushing his hand over my stomach. Satisfied, he turns his back on me. I acknowledge it as my cue to continue following.

He leads me out farther in the water guiding me by an arm halfway around my waist. When the water is up to his chest, and my shoulders, he stops.

"Hold your breath."

I pinch my nose and he dips us under. I swim at his side, and before I lose all the oxygen in my lungs, I am already rising and gasping above the surface. My hair is plastered to my back; drenched bangs block the view from my eyes.

"Where are we?" I wipe droplets of water from my eyelashes.

"A place I often come to for silence." Ansem lifts up me by my waist and places me up on a lift of solid rock. It's been slightly smoothed by the constant weathering of water.

"Is this where you run off to?" He lays his hands on top of my bent knees under the water.

"Every now and again." The moon light is in his eyes and in the contours of his body. This place is a hidden pocket under the Dark Margin's unknown sea and jagged rocks. There is a hole where air and light flows through, and the water that rises and falls against the cavern's sides is luke-warm. The rocks give off a faint blue glow like the rest of the rocks in this world.

"You said you needed to speak with me?" I run my fingers through my hair and sit up to better my already compressed breathing.

"I do." He hums moving his own hair out of the way and onto his back.

"About what?" I place my hands on top of his. The rim of water around my waist tickles my skin.

"Remember when I showed you my ambition?"

"Kingdom Hearts."

"Yes, that's very good. Do you also remember what I needed to achieve that goal?"

"A key."

"So you do pay attention." He plays with my fingers. "I also told you that certain ambitions take sacrifices, yes?"

"Why do I feel like you are going away?" A certain sadness washes over me. And we were just getting re-acquainted with on another.

"In a way I will be leaving you, dear."

"Why? When?" My emotions feel jumbled. In these kinds of situations I would cry, but I feel like doing just that.

"I already told you why. When- after Ebony is born."

"Ebony? You want to name her Ebony?" I sniff. I'm not sure how he figured out the gender.

"I believe it is a fitting name. After she is born you need to depart from Hollow Bastion." He squeezes my joins.

"Why?"

"You ask simple questions." He sighs. "When I leave I will not return until all the worlds end. Do you understand what I mean when I say that?"

I nod.

"Maleficent will acquire Hollow Bastion at my absence. Go to your own home world. I will come for you there, though I can not stay long."

"I'm confused Ansem. Ebony and I can't go without you."

"I understand. I will stay for as long as I can. Until then, do not fret on it, dear. You must trust me."

"I'll try." But I know I will. It's in my nature to worry. I reach up and wrap my arms around his middle in a hug. Water trickles loudly down my elbows creating ripples in the pool of trapped water around us. He never hugs back, but he returns the affection by setting a wet hand to the back of my head. We lean into each other and kiss softly. It makes my spine tingle. I can feel the heat growing between our bodies. His kisses turn feverish and forceful. His tongue slides into my mouth to harass mine. I don't think he can control his hands, but neither can I.

"Is this a good idea?" I whimper as he pushes up against me. His hands squeeze my cheeks and thighs under the water. His tongue assaults my neck. Rocking slowly against me, his member pokes impatiently into the soft inside of my thigh.

I timidly reach down under the warm water to stroke him. His member is hot and thick. I can feel his pulse under the caress of my finger tips. Now, more than a little excited, he forces me up farther on the underwater rift he's perched me up on.

I boldly wrap my hand around his member and generously rub the flushed tip. He continues to twitch humming deeply in approval.

"What do you mean?" His voice is low, hips jerking.

"I'm so far along." He removes his hand from my thigh and gingerly cups one of my breasts.

"I'm sure we wouldn't hurt anything, dear." His hips jerk harder when I rub a little faster. He pants. His gasps and sighs echo in the small cavern mixing with the whisper of the moving water around us.

"You might excite me into labor." I laugh at a ticklish flick of his tongue on the wet skin of my shoulder.

"You're in good hands." His hand slowly disappears under water. He gives me a sharp grin and locks his eyes with mine. I can feel my neck and the creases of my limbs growing warm. My legs tremble. My pulse quickens. I jump when a curious finger teases at the pearly little nub between my legs.

"Stop it, Ansem." I whimper letting him go to steady myself against the cavern wall. He grunts disappointed in the end of my thorough attention.

"Hmmm...no." He nuzzles the tip of his nose against mine. His panting is sultry floating over the curve of my cheek and lips. By now we're both throbbing.

Yearning, he moves me where he wants until he finds a position that feels comfortable. My legs are weightless under the water. I wrap them tight around his waist setting my calves between the tight clamp of his forearms.

"We shouldn't do this." I bite my lower lip and chuckle throwing my head back and wrapping my arms around his neck. He growls in anticipation.

I whisper in his ear.

"You should take me here more often." He leers and kisses my cheek.

So much for feeling sad.


	43. New

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 43: New

I can hear the steady beating of his heart. It's a deep precise rhythm that I can feel pulsing from the inside of his chest to my cheek. He's sound asleep, but he doesn't let himself snore. I press myself further against him until I can hear his steady breathing, too. Our damp hair is sticking to parts of our skin, but neither of us mind.

I inhale as much as I can, but my uterus is pushing up on my diaphragm, which makes my diaphragm push up on my lungs, which makes it more work to breathe. He smells faintly of saltwater and stone and sweat. It mixes pleasantly with his normal aroma helping to soothe my quiet anxiety. Our little 'talk' had only been a few hours ago. I'm exhausted, but I can't seem to fall asleep.

I'm debating on whether or not I should wake him. He hates it when I do that, but I want him to hold me and whisper sweet things in my ear. The uncertainty I've had since the beginning is stabbing me in the soles of my feet. I'm so achy and anxious I can't stand it.

Ache. For some odd reason I think again on the replica. 'A data copy' as Ansem explained it. Was the replica what Xemnas really wanted from my memories? Did he lie to me? If it was, the poor thing didn't last long. I shouldn't have gone back in the first place. I inwardly churn at my own stupidity. I don't know why I do these things_. Movement._

I stiffen.

Ansem sighs in his sleep. The cool air wafts over my bangs. I relax again.

Who is lying to me, and who isn't?

It's been hard to tell. I want to say that my Dearest isn't, but he has before. He's leaving me—us, soon and I can't stand that either. I don't want him to. Maleficent...she's only lied to me once and I've had my time to regret that. I ramble on and on in my unorganized thoughts.

He asks: "So you don't trust me?"

I'm thinking: "I don't know. But I really want to."

I hear him release another cool sigh that rolls over my cheeks. I remove bits of wet hair from the gully of my breasts and try to turn into a more comfortable position. Ansem shifts lazily against me loosening and then tightening the grip of his arm around my shoulders. I huff in distress. I miss being able to twist into hazardous, unhealthy sleeping positions; even when my joints hurt in the morning. But now, I've had to strictly lie on my sides. Where's the variety? Nowhere when your full oven hides your toes from sight.

_"Go to sleep."_

I would have jumped out my skin if he wasn't holding me so tightly.

"I can't." I turn back to my other side peering into his open eyes over the right of his chest. He yawns, a faint yellow glowing under his indolent eyelids.

"What has your thoughts, darling?" He grouses and sits up at a low angle; chin near his collar bones. The raw rise and fall of his torso is hypnotic. He stares, expecting some kind of answer.

"I can't give you anything exact. I'm not all sure myself." I press until my cheek is gracelessly squashed against the hot joint of his shoulder.

"Hmm." He hums closing his eyes like he'll fall right back asleep again.

"And it's not just my thoughts." My voice muffles. "It's more than that. I can't breathe, and when I'm not hyperventilating, I'm peeing."

He chuckles dryly. The vibration makes my ears itch.

"S'not funny." I whine. "My back hurts. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. And I'm still hungry." I don't even want to think about how horrible giving birth will be.

"Unfortunate," he murmurs "you don't have much longer to suffer." He goes so quiet, that I think he's gone back to sleep again.

"Ansem?"

"Go to sleep, Phoebe."

"I will," I groan "but can you answer something first?" Maybe I've found what's really been bothering me...

"What is it?" He sounds irritated.

"I love you."

"That doesn't sound like a question."

_"I'm getting there."_ I snarl.

"Out with it." He growls back.

"When you told me you loved me, did you really mean it, or were you saying it so I wouldn't worry?"

…

Insert the longest pause in history _right_... here.

…

"What do you think?" His tone is level. I almost thought he wasn't going to say anything.

"Which is exactly why I can't sleep." I flip hazardously away from him, facing the other wall.

_"I can give you a reason not to sleep."_ He leans over, his breath in my ear.

"You've had enough fun." I scowl and close my eyes. He hasn't answered my question.

* * *

You had been paranoid the whole beginning of December. You went here and there out of the cutting currents of wind, ice, and snow. Back and forth. You needed to have "this" and "that". Making sure details you weren't all that concerned about went according to plan. Ansem didn't particularly help, but he listened quietly in the background. He came and went as much as you did, but he had the sweet luxury of avoiding the clumps of snow plaguing almost every world...and your mother.

It felt like more than a month ago he had led you back to the Dark Margin. And years, not six months since you discovered you were pregnant. Toby had probably gotten tired of seeing your face to exchange money for service (only one appointment was ever free of charge). It wasn't like you were enthusiastic about it either. For a while you let your guard down. Ebony was going to be late, you were assured.

Okay, more time to plan, right?

But here you sit bewildered, dazed, and unsure of what to do no later than a day after being told exactly that. "She's going to be late." _He said_. "The very beginning of January." _He said_. Dammit, Toby was wrong!

Today, one week before the holidays, you felt your first contraction.

In the beginning, it was dull, barely there. But now, it's an ache that spreads like poison in your lower back, lower stomach, bowels, and groin. It's unbearable, and you cringe with each flooding wave of pain.

You try to remember what Toby told you. When you wanted to rest you couldn't lay down all the way. If you got anxious it was good to walk or pace. Remember to take deep breaths to keep yourself calm. But, you really can't take deep breaths, and your teeth keep chattering because you're absolutely freezing. Without Ansem here, his bed provides little comfort.

You whimper squeezing your eyes shut. When you open them, what do you know? He's there. He's _always_ there when you look twice.

"Do you need to leave?" He asks carefully selecting his words. He lingers in the doorway taking subtle note of your distress.

"N-no, I'm not ready just yet. It's early labor, I think." You'd need to leave when your water broke.

For the next couple of hours you watch him, watching you, watching him. He paces in and out lurking about like an hesitant animal. He comes close, but never close enough to give you the comforting contact you desperately need. He seems more anxious than you are, and it's infectious. You realize it's the same thing the other Heartless have been doing when you try to alleviate some of your stress by limping up and down the hallway. They stalk around you, their twitchy antenna trembling in curious excitement.

"Is there anything you need?" He crosses his arms and leans his weight against the door frame, suddenly interested in something in the carpet. He's probably gotten tired of hearing your pitiful whining, but how could you help it?

"Yes." You groan. "Please come here?" You beckoned him with an impatient hand.

You sat up more as he approached; legs spread awkwardly half under, and half over the sheets. He sits unhurriedly at the edge taking a moment to remove his heavy top coat, and gloves. When he props against you, you take a sharp, involuntarily inhale. He smells like outside and reeks deliciously of darkness.

"What is it?" He tries not to show how alert he is, but you can see it in his dilated eyes.

"Can you press here?" You reach behind, and guide his large, hot hand to your lower back, right over your dimples. "I think it will help." And it does. The counter pressure of his hand feels absolutely wonderful. You let him hold it there while you grab his other hand and press it gingerly against your neck. The heat that radiates from his palm warms the frigid surface of your skin. You sigh for two reasons all at once.

"Are you cold?" He normally doesn't ask stupid questions.

"Positively numb." You shiver yanking his hand to pull his entire arm around you.

"Then why haven't you lain under the comforter?" He's here, but not at ease. His body feels unbending alongside your back.

"You know I don't retain body heat well." You fidget. Your contractions where slowly becoming closer together. The difference in time is slight between them, but you notice. Not only were they increasing in frequency, but also in pain. You were so very tired, but the worst had yet to come. You wished you could get it over with.

"I need a bath." You decide watching the opacity of sunlight glinting from the window. Like a dial it had traveled a full cycle from one end of the room, to the other. You remember your mother mentioning something about bathing being a stress reliever. Then again, your mother was in labor for two days.

"And is that appropriate?" Too soon the sweet press from his hand is gone. Slowly but surely, you stand to your numb feet wiggling your toes to get some kind of blood flowing. There's no immediate circulation, but there is an instant flow.

"Ansem?"

"…" He remains calm, interested in something in the carpet again.

"_Ansem?_"

"I see it." He mutters, cocks his head to the side, and watches the stream of fluid travel down your legs and pool messily into the carpet.

"I suppose now, it's safe to assume that this is the appropriate time for you to leave."

* * *

December 19

3:57 A.M.

Not too late after, they hand him (not before trying to pinpoint his secluded location in the dark corners of the sterile building) a paper with a grand heading in grand text. His glowers at them, and they keep their distance adverting contact with his eyes. He tilts his head. Under the boisterous text is a line, already filled, for a specific name. He sees there are more, lines for weight, date, time, as his eyes scroll down the stiff sheet of textured cardstock. These lines are filled leaving only one blank. The point of the pen in his hand pauses. The nurses and an android assistant note in nervousness that he's thinking. He stares at two, tiny, messy, black, footprints, and one thumb print from a mother's right hand. His thought vanishes for an undetermined reason, a simple signature is struck, and the birth certificate is complete.

The nurses breathe a sigh of relief when they are finally able to walk away.

* * *

"Can I go home?" I whine throwing my head back against the pillow cushioned behind me. I stare at the ceiling. I hate hospitals. This building is a maze, and it's not at all what I'm used to. Toby's personal facility was smaller, much more comfortable, and not as cold given with the chilly weather.

"Not just yet Mrs. Greendown." Toby wiggles his finger at me whispering to a squatty nurse over something on a clip board. She smiles at me as she leaves. "Congratulations on the baby girl." I fake smile back. I'm not in any mood to be friendly.

"Can I see my baby?" I puff out my cheeks and pat my stomach. The 'thump thump thump' is hollow. _I _feel hollow, and tired, and sore, and yes I'm still hungry. Actually, after sleeping from 4:00A.M. to 4:00P.M. I'm starving. _"Toby." _I bark. "Toby, I want to see my baby!"

"Don't worry, you'll have the opportunity." He's grumbling over something to himself.

"Can I have my opportunity now?"

"Just as soon as—"

"Dr. Blair?" A shiny white android rounds in on the geared balls of her heels. I glare at Toby counting how many times his eyebrow twitches when he talks to himself. He was always twitchy when we were younger. "Dr. Blair has a visitor." She chimes in her programed feminine auditory.

"Oh, is your mother coming?" He asks me still distracted by whatever is on his clipboard. I think the clipboard is an excuse for him not to directly talk to me.

"I'mnotsurecanIseemybaby?" Oh, I'm pretty sure it's not my mother.

"I suppose they can come in. You've gotten your energy back, ?" I purse my lips and finally allow myself to go quiet. I fold my hands over my strained stomach and wait. Any minute now.

"Here you are." The android extends her pearly, level arm through the doorway in my general direction. There's quiet, steady movement from behind. I glance at Toby who still has his back turned, a hand rummaging through his chestnut brown hair. If I had popcorn, I'd be eating it, and cackling like a witch. Somehow I knew this would be inevitable.

I'm sure Toby expected to see some slicker from one of the wild packs of men who roam the streets at night howling cigar smoke at the moon. From the look on his face (which has flushed) this is quite a surprise.

"Hello." Toby turns promptly in a swiveling chair. He drops his pen. It clatters loudly against the floor filling the silence that had fell upon the hospital room. Ansem doesn't acknowledge him, he's evaluating me.

"Who might you be? A relative?" Toby pushes his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"The father."

"Oh, well, hello again. Could you give and I a second? We'll have have your newborn very soon."

* * *

You paced in a dead corner not to far from her open room. For how close it was, it was still miraculous that you went unnoticed. Then again, it wasn't. You even remembered to change before you came. You stuffed your hands into the warm pockets of your dull black over coat. You kept a low key unseen by the odd things that passed you by. You leaned alert against a cold, solid, white wall. The cold that seeped through the building penetrated through your coat and stung at the skin of your back. You didn't mind cold. Cold was familiar unlike everything else around you. All the noise you hear is extra external static to what you were deeply thinking. You stood impatient, tuned in, listening to the conversation from the opened room door.

"I'm sorry I assumed y-"

"I know what you assumed, Toby. Do I look like the kind of woman to kick up her heels in the back of a Cadillac? I don't run with those kinds of men."

"You looked like that once."

"I know what I looked like, but that's not who I am now."

There is a long, tense pause. You squint crossing your arms.

"You used to dance, Phoebe."

"That's an old chapter of my life. I've changed and let that go."

Another pause is filled with the clatter of medical machinery.

"Is...is he safe?" You could hear the waver in the man's voice.

"For me. _Not for you_. I know he doesn't look very inviting, but mind yourself, please?"


	44. What Will You Do?

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 44: What Will You Do?

I shake and shiver shifting my legs under thin stark white sheets. I'm responding quite unhappily to cold, to anxiousness, to what's happening in front of me.

To be truthful, I am envious of him. He gets to leave this room whenever he wants. Toby doesn't dare ask him questions; you could say he gets left to himself since everyone else finds his demeanor unwelcoming. I can see what they're talking about. It makes me feel absolutely delirious to see him hold my baby before I get to.

Before, it took several moments for the squatty little nurse to convince him to open his arms. I watched confused as he turned his nose at the offer to hold her. I'm not sure why he changed his mind. And oh, she looks so _tiny_ in his arms. She's curled up and cocooned in a layer of blankets; her head supported on the bicep of his left arm. Her soft whining overtime dwindles down into a silenced sleep. The quiet that engulfs us is still and comfortable. Toby finally leaves us as we get acquainted.

I fold my arms, sighing in controlled frustration. He takes his sweet time analyzing features and drinking in the sight of her with his deliberating eyes. His eyebrows scrunch in small thought. A gentle finger, with a girth two times wider than her wrist, smooths the pale, curly purple hair a top her propped head. With the addition of another hovering finger, he moves down to sample the fresh buttery skin of her cheek. I scoot in, leaning haphazardly over the rail of my bed. I guard my sore groin and stomach with a spare arm. I move as close as I possibly can.

"Please, I need to hold her." I beg in a whisper.

Our sights meet for a long moment. He's searching for something in my face, in my eyes, but all he finds is that I'm doing the same. Slowly, excruciatingly paced, he places her in my eager arms. I ease my shoulders to support her light weight. I'm overcome with something unfamiliar, and it makes my heart flutter under my bones.

"You're so pretty." I breathe sweeping careful fingertips over her forehead. Ebony stirs sighing brokenly in her sleep. "I just want to take you home." I murmur holding her close.

Ansem makes a low sound from the back of his throat; content. I notice he's been staring the entire time. "How do you feel?" He averts his eyes towards a heavily curtained window. Swirling flurries of snow clink repeatedly against ice cold, frosted glass on the other side.

"Incredibly, unbearably sore. When can we leave?"

* * *

"They said you gave them a hard time." She comments hobbling to a comfortable edge of your bed.

"I was restless." You breathe crossing your arms over your chest. You observe from a distance as she lifts The Child into her arms, and sets her gingerly against her chest to nurse.

"You were restless? I can see how _I_ was, but _you_? Please explain." She gives you a perplexed amused look and folds a blanket more around Ebony; who is busy suckling from her lactating mother.

"Your cries of agony were unnerving, and I'm quite the desensitized." You lie down on your side. You weren't feeling well, but you already knew why. You were running out of time.

She pauses for a bit, rocking her full arms. You can almost picture and name the different assortment of thoughts that were currently plaguing her head. She understands what you mean. Screams are a common thing where you venture.

"It _hurts_. Just in case you didn't know. So very sorry for making you...worry?" The sentence starts in light sarcasm, but quickly fades into a questionable tone. She slyly squints at you in realization. "Were you worried about me?" You grunt in response propping your elbow against a pillow. You set your cheek against the inside of your palm.

"I'll take that as a yes." She sticks out the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Her unnatural post-pregnancy chipperness was plucking unfailingly at your nerves. You didn't like it when she was too happy, but because of the particular reason for her influx of emotion, you decided to bare it. Rest assured you'd tame the unfavorable behavior later when you had the time or energy. At the moment, you had neither.

"I let you get away with far too much, don't I, dear?" You sigh closing your eyes. You train your ears to the sounds Ebony makes as she slowly becomes disinterested in her 'food'.

"I don't know what you mean." She whispers moving the hair draped over her shoulder to set the child there in its place. The next thing you hear is the paced hollow thump of a small hand against an even smaller back.

"I think you do." You open your eyes to glare. The expression she returns is soft and mindful. You'd roll your eyes if you weren't so tired.

"You never answered my question." She continues patting Ebony's back.

"And what was that?" You stretched drawn away slightly by the faint sound of Shadow Heartless scratching and squirming noisily behind pipes in the walls.

She holds a reflection of nervousness in her brown eyes. "When you said you loved me, did you mean it?" She caresses and reorganizes the thick purple curls along Ebony's forehead. "I promise to always respect you, and I'll do whatever you ask...within a limit." She clears her throat, now rubbing Ebony's back more than patting. "But, if you can, I need you to love me."

Sighing for a second time, through your nose, you give her an answer; a customary, retorting, countering question. You gave direct answers when you felt like it.

"Phoebe." You started sternly.

"Yes?" She radiated small particles of her normal uncertainty.

"Do you _feel _unloved?"

* * *

She could feel her face softening considerably. There was the truth. Just like that.

And the truth was:

_She didn't._

Perhaps now, there was one thing on a long list she could maybe put to rest.

* * *

Ebony fills me with so much joy, even when I feel depressed. Toby says that's natural; to have so many conflicting emotions. I get the feeling that I'm irritating Ansem, but I can't help that either. I can tell he's taken a certain kind of liking to her. Though it may look like he's taken this unique interest from afar, I see he's curious and getting closer. I've also been taking note of other things. Within a day or two after birth she had started opening her eyes.

_**His eyes.**_

_Just_ like his eyes. (Ansem's been sleeping more. Odd? I know.) She's gained a pound or so. At least, every new day I pick her up she feels a bit heavier and is constantly out-growing her clothes. (Ansem doesn't eat as much.) Two weeks later, the holidays and my mother's excessive cuddling have finally rolled by leaving a few baby toys and supplies; Ebony doesn't appear as 'new born' (Ansem watches her keenly for long periods of time). She follows me with her eyes, and can usually differentiate between mine, or her father's voice or face.

This is where I feel alarmed.

I stare absolutely _confused_, counting on my fingers. It's only been two weeks. I'm still sore and horribly overweight, and Toby still harasses me for check-ups, shots, follow-ups, blah blah blah. So why does my child look and act like she's at least three to four months old? I am more than a little concerned, but Ansem acts like there is _absolutely nothing wrong_. Per usual, he probably sees and knows something I don't. Maybe part of it comes from his side of the 'gene-pool'. Whatever that may be if it even exists.

I tap my finger against my bottom lip gazing on as Ebony struggles to roll onto her stomach. She's a weird, determined little thing. It's bad that I'm laughing, but I continue to chuckle under my knuckles. Ebony grunts in obvious frustration at being stuck on her back. A sway here. A waggle there. A bit of whining and she _almost_ manages to turn onto her belly.

"_Mmmm_." This is how she calls me. Ebony whines, her eyes drifting around for my location.

"Do you need help, you wiggly little liquorish jelly bean?" I set down a stack of books in which Ansem had explicitly instructed me on removing all the paper notes from. He has the idea of vaulting or burning them all later. I assume it must be information he'd like to keep to himself. Glad to know he trusts me with something other than his personal satisfaction. Urgh. Even though I know I'll pay for it later, I can't help but thoroughly read over a few. There's also the occasional tuck of a particularly interesting report down my blouse. Which, now that I think about it, isn't a very good idea considering how touchy-feely Ansem has been.

I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. I cross a few paces to the thick quilt I'd sat her on. The cold patches of tile and carpet in the hallway sting under my bare feet, but I don't bother to slip on any shoes. Snorting, I bend down above Ebony and help her barrel onto her stomach. She keeps up with her humming to acknowledge me. "Happy?" I flash her a toothy smile making sure the clips on her black fleece jumper haven't snapped off in her struggle. I'd hate for her to be cold.

"_Mmm_." She lifts her head and absently gazes through me; mimicking my smile with only two teeth. She constantly has this far away, dazed expression. I'm not sure what that particular gurgle means so I slap a pacifier back in her mouth and return to note-taking.

Note-Taking.

Get it?

Any who, I rush back to my duties occasionally checking the time. Two more hours, and I should probably leave to scrounge something up for a late supper. Though Ebony will get hungry before I do, I internally rearrange things into a schedule. I sigh through my nose creating a small cloud of dust in the process. Frowning, I collect wads of dirt on my palms and busy myself with checking the less thumbed through books for any of Ansem's spare notes. There aren't many, so I move on to another row.

**Volume I**

**Volume II**

**Volume III**

**Volume IV**

_**Volume XIII**_

Suspiciously and consistently, this particular book in this series is misplaced and out of order. The cadence of my heart picks up as I slide it slowly out of place. I compress the worn black leather between my small hands and discover that it's unbalanced. There's something on the inside, and I can't evade the sensation that I _must_ know what the something is.

"Mmm." Ebony hums in the background. I glace around to find her busy studying the pacifier she's yanked out of her mouth. Her usual far off, la-dee-da expression has taken a hold of her plump face.

"I see you, Sweetheart." I whisper shifting my eyes to corners of the library. I haven't seen Ansem in two days, but I imagine he could pop up at any time. _He's also not the only one who tends to pop up out of nowhere. _

"Let's see what we've got here." I ease the book open letting the crinkled, scribbled-in pages fall and divide till it stops at the center. I narrow my eyes apprehensively. In this big black book, I find a little black note. With one final look around, I set down XIII and open the cause of my interest.

_**I hope you haven't forgotten our last conversation, curious lass. I also assume you haven't forgotten **__why __**you are here. There was a price to correlating with me and obtaining my humble blessings. And there is a price to adoring darkness. **_

_**Your time dwindles as well as what you owe. I can trust you won't forget that. **_

_However__**, when time comes to end, will you still go?**_

_**Above all other warnings and threats, **__keep close watch of those things you adore. __**Because as planned, **__everything __**is to be devoured in Xehanort's shadow. **_

I swallow dryly. The pitch black paper burns in my hands. A sensation consumes me and my heart stings like I've been gripped by ice cold talons. I bite my lip clenching my chest to ease the sudden aching.

Ebony gives me an unnatural gaze with no movement, no sound. Just the bright amber of her eyes and her la-dee-da expression.

* * *

"What are you trying to provoke? Your harassment is pointless." I sneer leaning my weight against a jagged slab of pale frozen blue rock. The Heartless collect out in the distance, hidden, under the misshapen row of snow toppled cliffs. They blanket the earth bellow like a carpet of tar, or perhaps volcanic ash. Heaps of them twitch in uncontrolled frenzies bounding on top of each another and resurfacing in hazardous black waves. They have already taken fragments from the heart of this world, but they thirst for more: complete destruction. I am one of them and apart, but I seek the same goal.

"Did you like the replica, Heartless?" The _Nobody_ takes his time, unafraid of having his back turned. "It would be appreciated if you didn't mortally terminate any others. The color visibly drained from Even's face when he examined her damage. How much force did it take to fracture her cervical vertebra into ten different fragments?"

"I didn't find it charming in the least." The sharpened points of my canines dig into the soft flesh of my inner cheeks.

"Ahh, yes." The Nobody rambles on. More talking to bide his time and boil my blood. "Our replica program could use a bit of excision and perfecting. There are some things that just can't be `faultlessly replicated, but in sport, she was very good practice for when we attempt larger entities." He leisurely removes tuffs of fresh January snow from his shoulders, and sweeps icy flecks from his bangs.

"I noticed. My companion is not _good sport_." I steady my tone.

"Your _companion_ is she? I didn't think you would voice any complaints. You seemed fine with experimentation before." The orange of his eyes move about in search of something much more interesting to observe other than the chaos below. His prospect trains on the Guardian, yet another Heartless, rumbling agitatedly above me, and then finally, down to rest on my blank face.

"Don't talk down on things you don't know." I squint returning the interest.

"Dearest apologies." The Nobody lifts his palms in disclaimer, shaking more snow from his hair. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say I had offended you." He smirks, I scowl.

"Are you quite done?"

"Of course, of course. I've been meaning to speak with you on another matter." He breathes into his gloves to warm his chilled fingers. "I never really liked frigid weather." He mumbles under his uncovered wrists.

"What matter might this be? If you haven't gathered this by now, I'll let you know before you waste my time. I'm not interested in your _opinion_." The Guardian snarls distracted by the sight of the Heartless' gathering far down below the cliffs making runny, dark puddles in the slush.

"As thought-provoking as I find the idea of you producing offspring, that's not all I wanted to speak with you about." The Nobody releases a dry, lifeless chuckle; his face pale in the unwarming, setting light that casts yellow-orange ribbons over Hallow Bastion's terrain.

"Not all, or not all mainly about?" I uncross, and re-cross my arms; resetting the order of right over left to left over right.

"More or less." He starts. "Have you gone back to see Him and show the youngest the way_?_"

"I'm pressed for time, Xemnas. " There is an overwhelming list of things to set in place, and I'm lucky to have personal aid in doing so about the different worlds scattered throughout the Realm of Light. It decomposes me so. Sighing, I observe an opaque patch of colored sunset that's found its way onto the tip of my boot. Puffs of steam rise from the corners of my lips and fade into the atmosphere.

"_That you are." _Xemnas frowns. "I offer advice as you and I are meant to be a cohort. Perhaps you can take this as an invoice to awareness, but _you are distracted_. Your task isn't to carry on Xehanort's _other _passed ondesires, even as hard as that may seem. I find myself drawn away at times by carnivorous impulses that are not of my being." He trails, more of his rambling.

"It's not your job to monitor what I do in private." I taste iron on my tongue.

"No, it isn't. My task is to gather."

"Then contain your faulty concern and put it to use elsewhere. I've had The Witch collecting the light. She believes this and the portion of Heartless I've given her command over will bring her power." I scoff.

"Then go back to see Him before the opportunity is missed. Time, it's very interesting."

"Time." I echo murmuring. A sharp wind cuts into my drained cheeks. I lick my lips watching the vapor escape and disperse in the air.

"When everything falls in place, you know you're going to have to choose. There's an unavoidable toll to defying nature." He seems to muse. I don't find it a light hearted predicament.

"But, on a different note, I look forward to seeing her likeness. Braig tells me she looks very much like you. And isn't that a remarkable observation; to hold no further resemblance to the rest of Us. I'm quite curious to know what that may infer." He goes on again without spoken thoughts I don't hear any worth listening to.

I curtly turn my back on him and leave. I hope he's offended by it.

* * *

She wakes up with a jolt. The first reason is the effect of a dream, the second, is pure maternal instinct. Her eyes are blurred at first, heart racing, and Heart burning under her rib cage. Screaming slowly fades from her ears and back into the area of her dreams. Routinely and expecting it to be nearly three o'clock at night she reaches to flick on a lamp, but finds that it is already on. Why hadn't she woken up? What about Ebony (the cause of her new routine)? Widening her eyes at a bedside clock, she discovers that it's nowhere near three o'clock, it's ten in the morning. Okay, what about Ebony?

_Where was Ebony?_

Her breathing turned shallow when she found her to be missing from her bed place at her left side.

"Don't Panic."

Her head whipped around to her right. Ansem gave her a knowing look, eyebrows raised, his legs crossed comfortably over the sheets, and her Ebony cradled even more comfortably in his stable arms. She turned her head (almost comedicly ) to rest her eyes on her disoriented mother; suckling lazily on the water filled bottle he tipped to her mouth. Their expressions were almost a like.

"You're welcome."

"Yeah, thanks." She plopped back down against her pillow, her body heavy and throat sore. "You should do this more often."

* * *

**Author's Very Brief Note:**

**I think this is one of my longest chapters. It's well over 3000 words.**


	45. Before the Story Ends

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 45: Before the Story Ends

"You may have my smile, but you've got your father's teeth." I sigh. A small nick of blood pools messily and rolls down the side of my finger. Ebony peers curiously, hanging on to my side and resting her head on my shoulder.

"I thought you were done teething, huh?" Maybe it wasn't a good idea to sticky my finger in her mouth. I ignore it, and wipe the blood on the black fabric of my pants. Her eyebrows rise in what resembles a worried expression. She claps a hand over her lips and uses the other to point uncoordinatedly at what she unintentionally caused.

"Can you say cut?" I ask her adjusting her weight at my side; continuing to rearrange fresh milk in the fridge.

"Ussst." She hisses.

"Close enough." I sigh smiling lopsidedly. Puffing, I hitch her higher against my side, bump the fridge closed with my hip, and carry her out of the refrigerator hum of the kitchen. The air past the double doors is slightly colder and carries the musk of dirt and stale water. I wrinkle my nose. I show Ebony my uncharming expression and she giggles trying to grab at the scrunched space between my eyes.

"No matter how much I try to keep things decent..." I peer above my head moving down until I'm gradually surveying the floor. There are always a few broken leaky pipes, clumps of newly fallen metal, collecting colonies of dust, and of course Heartless. Nosey, evil, little lurking things. I tap a few with the heel of my foot agitating them into splitting off in varying pools of darkness. I shouldn't worry since we won't be here much longer, but it still bothers me.

"Move." I grumble at Heartless who are more stubborn than others.

Ebony twists and turns squirming until she can see over and behind me. "Oown!" She whines extending her short arms to the floor in giddy anticipation.

"No, I'm not putting you down!" I place my hand on her back to steady her wiggling body while I walk. "You can torture heartless later." I roll my eyes, squeezing her against the side of my neck and nibbling on her chin.

"Mmm oownnn."

"No!" I tuck my lips under my teeth and bite her cheek. "Stop moving jelly bean, we need to find your daddy and cut your messy hair."

In a weird mix of frustrated and tickled, I walk down a small flight of stairs and turn into the library. I expect to see Ansem by himself, but I almost shriek when I find that he isn't.

"Calm down, woman." He growls shuffling over the books I cleaned out a week or two ago. At least I thought I cleaned them out.

"Is he really necessary?" I ask avoiding eye contact.

"Yes, he can reach where I cannot." Ansem pats the looming heartless on the side of its moving arm. I watch from a distance as it drags down heavy casts of old, dust caked storage from the tops of library cases.

"I can see that. No, Ebony!" She redirects her attention from the heartless moving across the floor to the larger one above. She's going to make me drop her if she doesn't stop moving.

"Uust." She uses her new word incorrectly and extends her arms upwards. She stares seemingly dazed. His Guardian grumbles loud enough to where I can feel it in the back of my own throat. Though I see no pupils, I can tell he's watching us out the corner of his glowing yellow eyes. It's unsettling more or less, but it's not like I haven't encountered Ansem's other servant before.

"Why, are you afraid of him?" He taunts unenthusiastically. I hear him exhale through his nose. He unlatches a hefty chest coating his bare arms with smears of dust in the process.

Ugh, this place needs an air filter. Dust is so old its dust has dust.

"No," I lie. "I just wasn't expecting to see-"

"No need to explain yourself." He cuts me off. "He can be quite frightening can't he?" Ansem murmurs taking books from the shelf and arranging them in their new container.

I clear my throat. "Not going to burn them along with your notes today?"

"No," he announces "I've decided to vault my documents and this encyclopedia series instead. I'll destroy them on a later date; when I'm sure I won't need them."

There's a stiff bridge of silence where neither of us say a word. I'm searching for the right thing to say, but he's been so odd lately, what is there? I run my fingers through Ebony's hair, shifting our weight from leg to leg.

"Did you need something?" He asks. I can't tell if he's annoyed. I haven't done anything to bother him, yet.

"Yes, I need to cut Ebony's hair and I can't find any scissors." I scratch her scalp with the tips of my fingernails. "Usst...usst...ussssst" She begins to chant, trying to take hold of my palm.

She's been growing too fast making it tedious to keep up with her. This includes her subtlety straightening hair. I've cut it two times already this month.

"We can worry about that later." He stuffs and rearranges book after book. When satisfied he stretches murmuring something I can't quite hear. His Guardian lets out one last grumble before dissipating in wisps of darkness behind him (Ebony cackles in excitement) and leaving the area quite again. Sighing, he wipes dirt from his arms onto a spare cloth hanging from a shelving guard rail.

"Hand her to me." He finally turns in my direction. I try to search his face for some clue on his mood, but as always he's unreadable.

"Of course." I cross a few paces to where he is and set her in his already poised arms. Ebony clings to his bare shoulder, arms loosely held around his neck. "Hello, Ebony." He begins, grinning sharply, purposely to catch her ever wondering attention. She smiles back at him, already finding herself preoccupied with the firm line of his jaw. I bite back a grin moving in close to perch my chin on his raised for arm. "Say hello! I pinch the nape of her neck."

"Pahee." She replaces her chant with his 'name'. She's better at saying his name than she is at saying mine.

"Show me your eyes, Ebony." He places his hand on her back to steady her lack of dexterity. And she does as told gesturing a little too enthusiastically to both of her eyes. Ansem snickers in his own amusement.

"Now your ears?" He asks.

Bobbing she clasps her hands over her ears waiting for any other of his commands. They go back and forth for a while. He tells her a part, and she points to it. When he asks for her nose, she misunderstands and reaches for his. I find myself silent in watching their interaction. I don't understand how it makes me feel. It makes me content and nervous all at once. Though, I'm thankful Ansem is being so…mild-mannered. I wonder how long _that _will last.

"Hey Papa?" I sigh my cheek pressing into the side of his bicep.

"Yes?"

"I really need to cut her hair."

"If you insist."

* * *

Hair cut.

_Check_

Bathed.

_Check_

Fed.

_Check_

Lain down for the night.

_Double check_. That was a struggle in its self. You're hoping she's not pseudonocturnal like _someone _you know.

"Where did you learn to take care of children?" He's starting the evening conversation today? You slip off your shoes at the edge of the bed and lean over to collect his gloves. He tosses you a pair of his belts and you take them to be put away in his drawers. Lamp light gleams off the polished leather resting on each of his shoulders, and clasps click as he takes his time disconnecting them.

"My mother was a nurse." You roll up his belts, dipping down to open compartments by their metal nobs. "I learned by watching." You bite the inside of your cheek. "Where'd you learn to mind yourself, huh?"

"And what do you mean by that?" He heaves himself up from his resting point and saunters to another corner in the room to put his coat away.

"Well, you know." You didn't know how to describe it. He was being irregular.

"Hmm." He pauses for a moment unbuttoning his white under coat and setting it in a closet along with it's over coat; both still dusted with snow. "Don't the conditions call for being," he loosens the belt around his waist and tosses it in the drawer you left open, striding a few paces to stand directly behind you. "gentle?"

"They do." You rub the side of your arm. You feel him hovering over your shoulder; his breath in your ear.

"I have another question." He's so close; he makes the inside of your ear itch. You feel his bare arm snake around your side, the other holding something in front of your face. "Could you tell me," He kisses your neck through the purple stands of your hair "what this is?"

You slapped yourself on the forehead on the inside.

"That is a piece of black paper."_ Of course_ you left the note in the book. _Of course_ he found it.

"Now now, Phoebe," He turned the letter in his fingers and lurked around to face you directly. "This can be a simple question and answer-"

"Or it can be an interrogation." You rolled your eyes.

"Precisely." He squints tossing the note to your side of the bed. You can tell he doesn't appreciate it.

"I take it you read it." You wove past him re-homing the new topic of your conversation to the top of your night stand. You perch yourself at the edge of his bed and begin braiding your hair.

"I take it that that isn't the first one you've received." He moves to where you are using the top of your thighs to leverage himself over your body. Grunting, he briefly parts eye contact. You watch in silence as he reaches across the headboard to click off the lamp. His pupils slowly dilate in the dark. It irks you, because you still can't put a mark on his current mood. Is he angry about it, or not?! You think he would be.

"No, it's not the first." You exhale, knotting off the end of your hair to keep it in place while you sleep.

"I've been meaning to ask. But you don't like it when I'm being intrusive do you, dear?" He leans down and mutters into your shoulder. Your blood feels cold, like it used to when you were in trouble for something. "Up." He commands. You lift your knees so he can collect the edges of the bed sheets around you. Without permission he parts your legs, folds the comforter over his back, and settles himself between them.

"Ansem." You groan. "I've told you you're too heavy." It's a compressed feeling being trapped under his weight. You squirm beneath him. His face turns and he's glowering at you; arms wrapped under your back, and chin jutting unpleasantly into your front.

"How exactly did you come to associate yourself with Maleficent? You never told me."

He lets your gaze go allowing his head to drift to the side. You brush stray stands of his hair from the top of your stomach.

"I…" You realize you aren't sure how to start. It seems now that all of those mistakes are so distant.

"Go on." He urges, his breathing steady; inhale when you exhale, exhale when you inhale. Constantly pushing against you.

"I loved dancing. I wanted to be known for it. Maleficent said she could take me there, and she did, but I made the wrong choice." You wished Ansem was the kind of man to settle for a brief summary when prying for information.

"You know I want more than that." He exhales deeply. Not quite a growl, but you can feel his agitation. You might as well get on with it.

"I was young, twenty two or so. I wanted major production, but nobody starts out that way; right in the highlight. You begin in night life. That's how I knew it." You fiddled with your hair. It was hard to focus, to say things in the _right _way.

"I didn't know too many people, so I got to know some. I made connections with people who knew people who knew people. That kind of thing." You puffed your cheeks training your ears the sounds the pipes make when they freeze at night, the Heartless mucking about in other rooms, a chance that Ebony's crawled out of bed.

"They figured out I could dance, and put me on a stage so I wouldn't have to settle for neon sidewalks."

"That's not what you wanted." He sounds half asleep, but you know he's listening.

"After a while it wasn't the _stage_ I wanted. Ansem, do you really care?" You honestly didn't want to continue.

"No." He states candidly "Keep going. I told you my dirty little secrets. You tell me yours."

"_Fine_." You continue "I started out in a small burlesque company. And that was fun, especially the feathers," You noted fondly. "But after a while it wasn't about the joy in entertainment. It was about how much of your clothes you could strip off in one performance. That got old quick. Maleficent drifted in around the same time that and Metropolis' government turned sour. You know how she is."

"Looking to be queen of every castle she may pass by." Ansem snickers darkly.

"Exactly. My goal was traveling Broadway. The people I knew, knew people, who knew _her_. She took a bite out of the city by lurking in the night life, because any one who _is_ anyone drifts in the afterhours. They told me if you wanted something, she would give it to you. I wasn't really worried about a price."

"And you should have?" You feel the muscles twitching in the arms behind your back. He shifts upwards, now resting on the small space of pillow next to your head instead of on the fat of your stomach.

"Yes, I should have, but I wanted that spot. And I got it. It was great while it lasted. Two years of perfect, then Maleficent came for my neck. Two years for two years. That's when she brought me to you." You finish and reflect in the pause you leave behind. You are gloomy for a moment, having to think about who you used to be. It was different from what you were now. _But not by much._

"You're leaving out details." He whispers in your ear, nibbling on the cartilage.

"That's all you're getting." You jeer tucking your arms near his sides, and placing your hands on the warm skin of his back. "Why do _you_ even associate with her?" You give him a pinch that he ignores.

"The Witch is an investment. _I will deal with her invasiveness myself_." He concerns himself with kissing your neck. You shiver. The tip of his tongue flicks over the slope of your collar bone. You know what he's doing.

"Stop trying to warm me up." You whine.

"Hm?" he acts like he doesn't know what you're talking about. He lifts up on his knees pushing you down from your sitting angle into lying on your back, mouth opening to suck on a soft patch of your skin.

"Ansem, stop before you end up fathering another child."

Which was another _important conversation_ you've been meaning to have…

"Ansem, _I'm still sore_."

* * *

"Were you ever young?" She asks. It's been quiet, and in an odd sense, an eventful morning. At least in his eyes.

"Yes and no." He answers. For the past half an hour he's been watching her, watching the he child, watching a _spider_. The spider has been oblivious to the entire chain of watching and has simply weaved its web.

"Yes and no?" She echoes brows furrowed. She tilts her head subtly; light from an upper window in the library catches the honey in her eyes. She blinks tiredly loosening the braid from her hair with her fingers.

"I was young, but I've always been very old." He pauses his book packaging to analyze what he has said. "It's complicated." He shakes his head looking around his shoulder every now and again.

"So, you were young until you grew into your ego?" he sees her smirking, body curled under a blanket, and the Child set snuggly in her covered lap sucking absent mindedly on a pacifier. The spider settles itself in the window seal becoming less interesting with its lack of movement.

"Something like that. What's the trouble, dear?"

"I don't know. She's a little…_weird_ don't you think. The way she acts. I feel like you two get something I don't." She chuckles dryly smoothing out slightly waved strands over her shoulder. "It's almost impossible to believe I gave birth to her seven weeks ago." It hard for her to believe she even gave birth. Lots of things are hard to believe actually.

"Her growth rate would be my doing. I told you it was nothing to be concerned about." Every single volume has now been removed from the shelf. "I assure you she's perfectly fine."

"Yeah, yeah, you told me." She waves dismissively with her free hand. "I want to know what I'm missing though. What do you tell her when you look in her eyes? Are they the same things you tell me, or do you show her more?" He can hear the muse in her voice.

"I only tell her what she understands."

"That so? Then you tell her you love her, too." She mumbles out loud groggily stretching her back. "You told me we had something important to do today?"

"Yes."

"And what's that?"

"We're going to put the Jardinière back."


	46. INTERLUDE

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 46:

_**INTERLUDE  
**_

* * *

**Entry 22**

I was not aware of how loudly memories could whisper. These recollections touch their winding fingers to bases of their throats and find unstable vibrations in their voices. I can hear them telling me things, rasping in my ears and in the back of my mind, but I often choose not to listen. In this room, almost unrecognizable now due to all the wreckage, is where I vaguely remember living. It will make a fine place to study when made livable.

These accommodations are appropriate. It's time I settled. I've wasted my time wondering, searching for something I know cannot be found in the places I am allowed to seek. The preparations for the future will be a high amount of effort. It has already taken so much to get to this point. Yes, I'll only claim the most important wings of this fortress and the other Heartless may wreak havoc on the rest.

The temporary mass of my body is finally stable. Now if I could only stabilize my thoughts.

**Entry 25**

I was advised by a counterpart to acquire the aid of a Witch. I found I already knew her name. I know her face, the tell of her hand. She thirsts for power. I will not deny wanting power, too, but her thirst is one of _heavy greed_. Her demeanor is also notable; haughty, and falsely cunning in the acid of her eyes.

She will do.

**Entry 26**

I entitle Maleficent to collect the hearts of light. Which is rightfully her trade. Maleficent entitles herself to a portion of my Heartless. Which is crossing a thin line. I am being advised to simply observe where her confidence goes, but I do not favor sharing; especially what is rightfully _mine_. But, I sit, and I quietly seethe, pooling in my own annoyance. At least she does what she's asked.

**Entry 29**

I have limits to my patience. I allow myself to forge alliances and make sacrifices. This is quite necessary to achieve such a high prize. But I do not take in stray _dogs_. Especially not _hers._

She came in boldly, unannounced, and presented me with a female. Of all the times to displease me. But, I dissatisfy myself. I could have gotten rid of the Witch's debt holder immediately, but instead I have chosen to postpone her eradication. She may stay for now, for a reason, that now that I reflect on it, is utterly irrational. Not to mention, a flaw in my own self-control.

I crave her Heart. It appeals to me. Even now, I can hear it beating loudly, nervously along with the life animating her body. Its scent fills my nostrils, replaces the flavor in the back of my throat with something savory.

I can no longer focus my thoughts. I can't help recognizing that I will regret this later.

**Entry** **31**

I have attempted and failed once at eliminating the female from my presence. She is temperamental, aggravating, and painfully _nosy._ Just last night I cornered her wondering where she shouldn't have been. I'm not the only one who craves her heart. I should have let the swarm of shadows that had collected to overtake her, but I still have this peculiar interest that refuses to loosen its hold.

Today, I had sent her out in search of what should prolong the stabilization of my humanoid form. I spent countless hours shuffling through the archives for something that would reinforce the confidence my birth body. The encyclopedia volumes constructed by the former ruler of this world, informed me of a jardinière filled with foully weighted Darkness. Like many other things I assume that this will do for the time I have allotted.

I also assumed the female wouldn't come back with it. Yet, she had. Good and bad news I suppose. Since she still lives, she can still be of use to me. I need a subject to test the potency of the Jardinière on anyway. I'll have her prepared tonight.

**Entry 32**

I hypothesized an immediate or perhaps slightly delayed death on a petite human female (it was unfortunate I didn't have a more suitable hefty adult male). However, I wasn't expecting to experiment on such a peculiar heart color. I've seen many pink hearts in my time, even blue, but it's very rare to come across a green color variation. I was pleasantly surprised. It's even more appetizing when exposed. Heartless present during the experiment even encouraged me to consume it.

I followed procedure: sedating her, with a bit of difficulty, disrobing her, and noting her condition before giving the subject a sample of the liquid inside the Jardinière I had previously collected in a test tube. (I'll have to remind myself to re-stock the lower laboratory). With another injectable sedative, I was able to properly observe the effects on her body. I viewed with the expectation of immediate side effects: pupil dilation, convulsions, heart splintering, etc. But after a thorough look over, I could only note the slight tinting of her heart, and the unnatural, brief eclipse of her eyes. I will have to wait for the stated prolonged side effects to take place. The jar was said to evoke caustic desires that lead to eventual destruction by internal means.

**Entry 35**

I am perplexed and agitated. I dislike her being here in my vicinity. She may have her own sleeping quarters, but it inconveniences me anyhow; I can constantly sense her presence. I am not a man to 'spook', but I've been confined to solitude for so long it is hard to ignore that she is here. Her curiosity by its self only mildly concerns me. It's where she directs this attention that _irritates_ me. She's not beyond invading my privacy; my documents,_ my own room_.

Why hasn't she dropped dead yet?

I tense even now. Among other discoveries, she quite obviously does not like me. She finds me intimidating. It makes good entertainment to see her squirm under the judgment of my own eyes. She doesn't like it when I call her by her name. So now I use her name more often.

**Entry 37**

I don't recall nightmares being one of the prophesized side effects. I can hear her dreams ripping her apart at night. I've learned to tune it out along with my faint memories. It will be quite interesting to see her deterioration. You acquire a lot from a person by dissecting what they lust for.

**Entry 40**

Xemnas believes he can intrude whenever he wants, take whatever he wants, and comment on any topic of his choice. I do not have to be kind to him, and I won't. He asked me of my own progress and I answered him curtly. He asked me of my experiments, and I instantly knew of his trespassment. As I suspected, he went on to inquire of my indentured servant. I told him that she was none of his concern, and she isn't.

It does not matter whether the Witch comes back to claim her or not. What does matter is her use to me. Her heart is green. If I take her in between, perhaps her green heart will see the door.

And knowing Xemnas' thirst for information, he knows her inclination, and will be anticipating the results of my venture.

**Entry 41**

Venturing to the Dark Margin was not a waste of my time.

I've also decide to take the risk of consuming the liquid inside the jardinière in regular intervals.

**Entry 43**

Her behavior is fluctuating, and I'm uncertain of what to make of it. She's slowly starting to accept and manipulate the mingling of darkness in her heart.

I need to better distance myself. I made the mistake of settling her in my own personal living accommodations. But it's so taxing to resist feeding off of her distress.

There is a good chance I am becoming too comfortable in her company.

**Entry 44**

I was going to pretend that that brief bit of contact never happened.

It felt too _good_. I'm quite greedy after I've had a small taste. Woe is me?

It's time to abandon my experiment. I don't think I'll ever get a proper conclusion.

**Entry 49**

She does not realize it, but on occasion she sleepwalks. I find it absolutely mirthful.

The Witch seems to be more interested in picking old wounds, then giving me what I need to know. I'll pry for more background information on my servant when I know she'll crack and disclose.

**Entry 53**

How I didn't realize is beyond me. How I didn't anticipate is a critical mistake. I asked her what she wanted. I simply wasn't expecting the object of her desires to be me, but I'll willingly oblige.

Her heart, her body, her soul

_now belong to me. _

The Jardinière's darkness would appear to also have affected my sense of self. I cannot deny what I desire, and neither can she.

**Entry 64**

I give her things to feed her nosy tendencies. Maybe one day I supply her with a page from my personal record, or another day I humor her in a rally of her daily questions. Though she still annoys me, they are times when she does amount to rather thought-provoking conversation. If not conversation, we share rather interesting love-bites. This occurs most at night if she doesn't fall asleep first.

I've forced myself to mind a smaller body. I dislike sharing, but I hate her pathetic shivering even more.

**Entry 67**

I was quirkily reminded of a simple concept this morning. Though I'm very aware of our differences, I was reminded that she is female, and quite fertile by her scent. However, if we were to engage in sexual intercourse at any point, I doubt we'd be genetically compatible.

**Entry 72**

She's quite a lovely sight without any clothes to obscure my view. She normally tells me not to look, but I look anyhow. I hunger for her in more ways than one. I have a physical desire to be closer; consumed with this small addiction to her affection. The burning need—burn it does— to touch and claim her body against mine. Her love is too sweet of a taste. And he wants to rob me of my personal indulgence out of thin jealousy.

Such quiet desire for intimacy raises many familiar eyebrows, doesn't it?

I'll just have to see that they're lowered.

It's sad being what I am, doing what I do, and knowing this opportunity will _never _come again.

I should not forget business. She hasn't told me of these past intrusions. She doesn't think I know about them, or if she does, doesn't want to bring it up in fear of my…temper. And she's right and wrong to do so. She's only told me of what she's seen on the Islands. Things would be easier if she just did _all_ of what I commanded. Must I settle everything myself? The more things pop up, the more sand slips through the waist of the hour glass.

**Entry 81**

Note to self: It would be wise to terminate the information held on the hidden computer. The air smells of nobodies.

**Entry 83**

She wanted a damn explanation. I gave her one.

How can I make her understand that I did not know her then, that in that period of time, in those moments she did not hold the significance that she does to me now? I despised her once, dragged her against her will, tampered with her heart. I won't say that I didn't do those things, but I refuse to apologize. The ends justify the means.

Meddlesome, disobedient _woman._

She can't take me back, and I'm not giving her away. She knows who she belongs to. _I'll be waiting._

**Entry 88**

I haven't seethed and wallowed in antagonism like this in ages. One week agitates me, three weeks boils my very blood, but a month…unnerves me. I spend half of my time directing the Heartless, collapsing a world here and there or collecting hearts and increasing our numbers, and the other half is spent wondering in my _small_ reservoir of mistakes.

I can think of one off the top of my head:

_Allowing her to leave._

Assuming she'd come back to where she belongs. I don't know where she is and it eats away at me more than my unpreventable exposure in the realm of light.

Should I have broken a man's arm? Yes, I am rightfully justified in breaking the bastard's arm.

**Entry 93**

I had an odd dream last night. It's an oddity for me to dream when I'm so used to dark voids. This time was different. I looked into a young girl's face and saw myself. I do not know what this means.

How can one feel so anxious and deprived while being so well rested?

**Entry 94**

It has her full name. It has her age. And it has my child.

I understand now.

I did not believe that we were compatible enough to produce a child but this has obviously been proven incorrect. I try to remember the last time I had lain with her. It's been three months or so since I've been able to wrap her soft legs around my waist.

Nothing betters my current state of mind. It's been too long and I _hate_ with every fiber of my being, being uncertain of something I can control.

**Entry 96**

She noticeably looks different. I could tell in the way she had been shuffling around me, that she was hoping I wouldn't notice. I've noted a number of things; the very slight protrusion of her stomach, the roundness in her face and the beginnings of extra weight in her arms and legs. She looks the same only subtly fuller, it that is possible.

She thinks I'm still angry, and it satisfies me. But in reality I'm simply content with having things back where they belong to limit the severity of my distractions. I also expected that she would inform me of her pregnancy, but she hasn't. I'll try to disregard that this marginally offends me.

You're fault. My fault. I think it no longer matters. I'll think of something as punishment later, and she'll probably be thinking of someway to evoke a genuine apology out of me.

**Entry 101**

To prevent this kind of occurrence from happening again, I have decided to allow her partial knowledge of my own secrets. She knows this much of me now, and plans on giving birth to one of my children, she might as well also know of Xehanort. At least as much as she can understand.

**Entry 112**

There are times when I act too rashly. Perchance, snapping clean through the replica's neck wasn't my best idea. A foreign sensation took over me and I reacted in physical focus. In a way it's ironic. This is what I _would_ have done two years ago had I not made a different decision.

She refuses to let me touch her neck so I've left her be. I need to arrange a private conference soon. If Xemnas wasn't who he was, I would have sought others means to voice my _concern _rather than diplomacy. And we were advised not to quarrel among one another.

**Entry 126**

She told me that labor was one of the most excruciating processes in regards to 'how much you can withstand'. I think having to listen to her struggle might have been much harder to bear. I am not a sensitive man, and that disturbed me.

Yesterday I became a father. I don't feel any different.

**Entry 132**

As I anticipated the wielders of the keyblade would be found with the Princess. Few worlds remain. The end of the beginning is very near and I am confident that there will be much reward for my hard work.

Maleficent will take this castle as soon as I leave seizing the last shreds of this nearly vacant world. I must dispose of, or vault away my documents. If Maleficent is left to it, she'll take the information I have for herself and I'd much rather keep her ignorant.

Other preparations must be done, and even as I write I massage my temple in stress. I'll have to accommodate for my mate and offspring while I am away along with stowing away my years of research and dedication. And then there is the boy; the critical task of meeting him on the islands as Xemnas so graciously reminded me.

On top of this there is the slow destabilization of my body. The Jardinière is no longer enough to sustain my original form in the world of light. I shall soon need a proper host.

…

But if it's not much to request I'd simply like to nap, taking my little piece of heaven to bed with me.

* * *

**Brief Author's Note:**

**I hope you enjoyed this bonus chapter. I supremely sleep deprived myself writing it **

**e u e **


	47. Word to the Wise

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 47: Word to the Wise

I've been to many worlds on my own and observed a wide variety of people, but it's very rare that I find myself here in such a disorderly habitation. I do not know the exact location of where the Jardinière was originally guarded, and I assume that she remembers the way to the beast's labyrinth. For the first time in a long time it is I who follows behind without question. I try my best not to make note of this world's appearance, or how it's affected her.

"Ansem." She pushes past the busheled edges of crooked fruit trees.

"Yes?" I answer.

"I can feel the holes you're burning into my backside." She briefly peers over her shoulder and re-adjusts the lack of leg wear lining the tops of her swaying thighs.

"Where else am I supposed to look? You are leading the way." I don't attempt to find something more interesting to burn holes into.

"Admire the scenery?" She suggests stepping onto a jagged, glowing pathway lined with luminescent lichen and moss. The star tiles curve and spiral through eerily hanging brush with its end being the brightest point beyond an assortment of other odd vegetation. "You told me you don't come here often."

"I don't. It's interesting, but not noteworthy." I hardly ever have a purpose for being here. I did once, and now for almost the same reasons.

"I suppose what I have on is then?" I can hear the roll over her eyes in her voice. She leads out into a thicket; the opening of what appears to be a long maze. This must be it. I clutch the obtuse neck of the jar in my fist and stand beside her.

"It is. Ringmaster?" I look her up and down, pulling at the mismatched fabric covering her stomach.

"I can't do a thing about it." She sighs at the spontaneity of my playfulness and pats my curious hand back into submission at my side. "This is the opening here. I'm not sure I can lead you any further."

"The maze changes through each passing." I state, remembering what I've read in the past. I scan my starting position. The outer door is covered in centuries of grape vines and glowing wall crystals. Beyond stone barriers and thick hedges I can see the trunks of unnaturally tall trees, whose tops disappear beyond a veil of thick grey clouds. From what I can hear, more than just a guarding beast makes home here in the labyrinth.

She nods her head. Her fingers itch to take my hand, but I don't feed her desire. "I don't know how I made it out last time. It was hard enough getting past the palace and finding the center."

"There are no guards today? You mentioned them in your report." I had her write a report on this world for a very good reason.

"I guess not. Maybe it's this be-headment trial that everyone's been yapping on about?" She shrugs her shoulders and begins to walk; taking a firm hold of my gloved wrist. "This just makes our job easy." Try as she might, I do not move to follow her. She tugs when she notices my resistance and gives me a confused expression. "What's wrong? Aren't you coming?" She leans her weight into pulling me the opposite direction.

"I will walk the maze and return the jar to its original place, but you aren't coming with me." I say this as sensibly as I can.

"Why not?!" Her eyebrows furrow. Her long purple hair sways with the tilt of her head.

"You've lead me here, and that is enough. When I first sent you on the task of retrieving, I intended for you to die. I don't intend that this time." I lift my arm to my mouth and softly bite her hand. She lets go of my wrist, placing her hand against the side of my exposed chest. "If you were the one to take it, I shall be the one to put it back."

"I don't want to stay behind. I think I should go with you. You said _we're_ going to return the jardinière." She argues. I press against her hip to keep her from moving.

"I've changed my mind." Upon summoning, my Guardian snarls to existence above. Defeated, she jadedly backs away crossing her arms, the edges of her lips curl into a bitter frown. I stride past and try not to let her new mood bother me. I will suffer for it later, but I know this is for the best. "You may either leave, or wait here."

"You aren't the boss of me." Her response is delayed. By the time she replies, and I have had time to hear, I've already ventured far past the entrance. My chuckle is dry, but not humorless. Though, considering the totalness of our predicament, I shouldn't laugh.

I love her, fortunately/unfortunately.

And in these times it is very painful.

Returning is more than placing things back where they belong. It means I am officially, completely out of my own time. Oh, but the things I've done. And the things I'll have to do.

"Ringmaster, may I borrow your Motivation?" I bellow back to her. From far away, I squint to see the slow nod of her head. The whip materializes in my hand. Dark energy pulses from my palm to the metallic handle. It shifts slightly in appearance, altering to the qualities of its wielder. I coil the lengthening, darkening material around my knuckles and tuck the spur where it won't cut.

"At ease." I hiss the command to my restless servant above. There's already something prowling around the corner.

* * *

Just like old times. I kiss his bare shoulder after dabbing alcohol over the fresh stitches on his back. I suppose this means we can't make up for our earlier (kind-of) argument. "Why do I get the feeling you did something you knew you weren't supposed to do?" I sigh snapping my surgical kit closed. That's it. I have no more organic thread.

"I dropped something and needed to go back." He stretched gradually, carefully popping the stiff bones of his back. He relaxes and pats the tops of his thighs. I tuck my things away in an office drawer full of test tubes and return to oblige him.

"What did you drop?" I hope it wasn't the jar. For Ansem, that would be exceptionally clumsy. I wrap my arms around his neck and fold my legs against the sides of his legs. My knees press into the back of his chair; bottom planted comfortably on his slightly parted thighs.

"This." He reaches over to retrieve an object from the top of his desk. I don't recognize it until he holds it up in the lamp light for me to see. The smooth black object dangles from the chain wrapped around his fingers and clutched in his palm. I soundlessly take it and click it open.

"I remember this." I should. I bought it for him. "There are no numbers." Barely notches, but you can tell what's meant to be there. "You actually kept this?" I smooth my fingers over the cold pewter.

"Of course." He runs his fingers up and down the line of my back.

"For what?"

"It's a clock silly woman. I use it to tell time."

"You _really_ use it?"

"Yes, I use it regularly along with the other gifts you've given me over the past three years."

"Not _all _of them." I begin. The topic of the watch set side, he knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"I don't think I follow." He leers at me, hands gripping the sides of my waist. "I use your most recent 'gift'. "

"I think you do follow. I have to _remind _you, Ansem." He sticks his tongue out at me, the sides pressing at the sharp borders of his teeth.

"As long as I'm reminded, it shouldn't matter." He takes the pocket watch from my hands and sets it back in a corner near a stack of opened books.

I change the subject back to what it originally was. "So, you felt the watch was important enough to get your back slashed over?!" I know I gave it to him, but I honestly don't think it's that significant.

"Yes…No." His head tilts back and forth in thought. "Not for the reasons you might be thinking."

"Then what?" I shift to the side, ret-tucking my legs and resting my back on his arm.

"I told you. I need it to tell time. " He pauses absent mindedly drumming his fingers along my spine. "Think of it as a bookmark."

I just squint.

He waves it off. "Never mind about it."

I lay my head against his shoulder, and we sit in silence for a while. It's a silence that doesn't feel as comfortable as it should. I sigh thinking of things I can say. I want to know what's on his mind, but he can be so aloof at times. I take his free hand and twine my fingers through the rough spaces.

"You know what I find funny?" I finally find something work continuing our conversation over. I turn my head to find his tired eyes. The bottom of my chin juts where his collar bones meet of his chest.

"What?" I can feel his voice grumble. The vibration tickles my teeth.

"That you're the one who suggests I leave Ebony with my mother."

"Isn't that practical?" He leans to prop his elbow on an arm rest, his knuckles press into his cheek.

"Well, yeah, I just find it a little funny." I shrug. I think he'd be the one hard of letting go, bearing in mind all of his quirks.

"I can't teach her everything, even if I would like to." He stares off in no particular direction, lost again in his own thoughts. "She needs to see and experience other people before." He ends abruptly. There's another silence. I realize he's not going to continue; unless I say something...

"Before?" I prod.

He just shakes his head.

"Before what?" I sit up realigning myself in the center of his lap. I stare and his eyes glare directly back into mine.

"Before all the worlds fall to darkness, Phoebe. There won't be people for her to interact with, will there?" He saves the drama this time and cuts to the point.

Oh. Right. Can't forget about that.

But then I _really_ think about it.

"_Yes, your world, too_." He's already read my mind. Just like a god damn Saturday morning newspaper.

No.

* * *

She spits and shrieks and tells you no, and you growl and bark and tell her you don't have a choice.

She goes on and on over the reasons why

"You can't!"

But you can and you will and you must. You say you'll save it for last, but that's not good enough. It's not good at all, and for a moment it looks like she's going to cry. Concretely, you can understand. Her world is half of who she is, and she'll lose it. The other half of her is you, and regrettably, she is going to lose that, too.

She turns from you, and she's talking (yelling) out loud down the hallway, and you can hear the echo of how "Incredibly stupid, pathetic, and blind" she is and you _knew_ she'd be upset, that's why you didn't say anything. You both said you wouldn't keep things from each other, but you assumed that some things where obvious.

If it helps to ease her mind, and her tantrums, you'll put her to bed.

She protests at first trying to pry your fingers from the grip you have on her waist. She continues to do so when you drag her by her nose into your bedroom, and so on when you lay on top of her, but she stills when you kiss and moans when you lick her neck. If you keep going you're hoping she will forget, if only for a few hours.

Sweat collects between the spaces where your bodies grind together and on her forehead, plastering her bangs to her face. You kiss her under her eyes and on her cheeks and on her temples, and grunt in a hot rhythm against her ear. She cries over and over and over and over again that she "absolutely can't stand you", but all you do is turn her face down on her stomach, bite her neck and thrust harder. You know you've done your job right when she is incoherent; you can barely understand what she's trying to say. Your toes curl, her back dips, her mouth forms a 'O' against the pillow, and the release is very sweet.

You peck her lowered back once between her shoulders, pull away, rolling over to her side. You thought you were the one who typically fell asleep afterward. If not asleep now, she's halfway there. Your arm snakes around her waist. She gives you a half-assed attempt at a scowl, of which you can't completely see because tousled hair and a pillow cover half of her face.

"Better?" You press your lips against the space between her eyes.

Her only response is the noisy passing of air through her nose.

You are more than tired now, and the stitches that line your back sting, but you'd rather her wake in nothing but a good mood tomorrow. Besides this is probably the last time you were going to be able to be wit her in this way.

* * *

She is still unspeakably upset. And now that he's said, and she's been done, there's absolutely no way she could focus any of what she was thinking before.

She lays next to him in what seems like an eternity of silence. The whole day has kind of felt like that.

"I know you are still awake." He waits for her eyes to open. "I apologize."

"Doesn't your back hurt?" She gripes. Her mouth is hidden.

"I said I apologize." He pushes back the fold of the pillow and snags the bridge of her nose.

"For what?!" Is he really saying he's sorry _now_?

"For everything."

"Way to be a man, Ansem." She tries to remove his grip and place the pillow back against her face. "Can we talk about this whole world dooms day thing later? I am internally panicking…and I can't exactly think straight."

"That wasn't what I was apologizing for." He shifts to lying on his stomach, arms crossed above his head.

"You forgot didn't you?!"

"You didn't remind me."


	48. You Had

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 48: You Had

I woke in the morning expecting him not to be there. He was, to my slight relief. I had opened my eyes to the first activity of the day; watching him watching me, and we said not a word. That was normal though. I'm still distraught, not angry, but not as distraught as I know I should be. I don't try to fight him anymore. I just wish he'd tell me things. Tell me when. In the next minute? Hour? Day? Week? But I know he won't and all I can do is let it go and hope. For what? I don't know. My heart hurts.

"You need me?" I inch into the kitchen, peering behind the double doors. I find him rummaging for something on the inside. He briefly turns his head to acknowledge me.

"Yes." He replies, voice stoic. I can't read his face. But that's normal.

"For?" I rub my arms. The air in the kitchen is damp and cold. It chills my cheeks and makes me feel as if my nose will run.

"In a moment." I hear him click on the burning gas of the stove. He pulls a metal object out of his pants pocket and sets one end of it on the flickering blue flame. I stare for a moment, confused, and look up to meet his gaze.

"What is that? What is it for?" I can see it glowing orange at the edges out of the corner of my eyes. A crisp burning smell fills the air.

"A precautionary measure." He motions me to move closer. I do so with suspicion. I'm starting to feel a little less confused.

"And what measure is this?!" I switch between eyeing him and the glowing metal on the stove. After a while it starts to glimmer a deep red. Smoke swirls to the ceiling from its hot source.

"Do you trust me?" He disregards my question and asks one of his own.

"…Yes…?" He takes hold of my arm, inspects it, and then takes my other. He hums in disapproval and turns me around to survey areas on my back.

"That was incredibly delayed, but I'll take it." He's dissatisfied with my lower and middle back, and brushes aside my hair to hang over my shoulder. He presses his fingers into the space under my neck and above the center of my shoulders. "Here is good." He murmurs.

I break into a cold sweat. "Ansem, what is that for?" It's very stupid of me to ask, because by now I know what he's planning to do with it.

"I need to place an imprinting." He makes sure all of my hair is out of the way before strongly griping the back of my neck. His knuckles jut under the lining of my jaw near my ears. He knows me entirely too well. I should have run when I had the chance.

"Why?!" Okay, wait. I know I said I wouldn't fight him, but I think I have a valid reason. I make myself sick imagining how much it's going to hurt.

"Stop fidgeting." He sighs and reaches for something near the stove. I wince when I think he's going to take the angry looking iron. "It won't be a clean burn if you don't hold still."

"I didn't say you could!" I argue through the lump caught in my throat.

"I never gave you a choice." He keeps having to move my hair out of the way. The longer he waits the more nervous I get.

"I think I should have a choice! Ansem, it's going to _hurt_." A lot. I've been burned before and I don't want to relive the experience.

"Of course it's going to hurt, but it's necessary. It won't sting for too long afterward. Stop your whining." He pulls a bit of gauze and tape from a corner by the side of the stove and places it in arms reach on the counter. The burning aroma in the kitchen is stronger now; smoke floats lazily around the ceiling pipes. It alerts Heartless lurking around in the upper rafters.

"What is it for?" It better be pretty damn important.

"It's precautionary." He starts.

"You said that."

"Let me _finish_." He barks.

"If anything where to happen," He turns the knob of the front stove burner, dimming the flame. "Let's say you lose your ring." He waits for a moment before taking the cool end of his make shift branding iron. It looks like a torn letter key from one of the castle's older passageway signs. It's no bigger than a industrial machine stencil.

"My ring…?" I lift my hand to look at it. I've never taken it off. My reflection glints in the smooth black band.

"I tend to have a general idea of where you are when I am not with you." He continues. "If you lost the ring I made for you I wouldn't know where to find you if the time should come." He talks like he's trying to distract me. "If I place a scorch mark, I won't have to worry about that would I?"

I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head in cautious agreement.

"It's much more permanent and I couldn't imagine how you would lose it, but do try to keep up with your ring." Ansem finally takes the burning metal from the stove and poises it above the designated area. I can feel the heat that radiates from it on the surface of my skin.

"Hold your hair."

"Okay…"

I let out a weary exhale and bundle my hair in a sweaty palm on the other side of my shoulder. His free hand snakes around my side; palm exposed and fingers motioning for me to take it. I thread my digits through the groves between his. This is really—_really _going to hurt.

"OW!" I shriek the moment he presses it against me. It burns like hell and then some. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I squeeze his hand so tight the pads of my fingertips turn white. "Is that enough?!" I clench my teeth. The scent of my own burning skin fills my nostrils.

"Not quite." He lets it linger for a while longer. Five excruciating seconds later and he removes the crackling iron. I blow air from my between my teeth and let go of his hand one stiff finger at a time. I can feel the burned area throb with stinging heat. It's horrible.

"That wasn't so bad." He arranges the still scorching letter key on the very back burner on the stove and returns to my side. He looks over his handy work satisfied with the result. Whatever that may be. I can't really see it, or what exactly it is he burned into my back.

He leans over and kisses up the side of my neck.

I hiss at him.

"Aren't you going to put something on it?" Like ointment? I can't deal with this kind of pain all day.

"No, not at the moment. It would be better not to. However, I do plan to cover it up." He grasps around me to take the cotton gaze and tape he set aside on the counter. "Don't move." He glowers at me, eyes stern.

No matter how carefully he tapes the cotton to my back, it still hurts.

I tense. "Hurry please?"

"Don't rush me." He takes his sweet time.

* * *

"What a lovely face." Xemnas bundles the high collar of his coat around his neck.

"Good afternoon, Nobody. I'm sure she'd appreciate your compliment if she was awake. " I don't greet him with much enthusiasm. He isn't supposed to be _here_. "What do you want?" He doesn't talk to me unless he's being intrusive, requires something of me, or has a prude comment to share.  
"I only came to chat with a dear friend of mine. Is that too much to ask?" I know he's only interested in what, or rather who, I'm toting in my arms. It's very funny actually.

"Yes, of course. As much as I would love to have a heart to heart, I really have to be on my way." I stride past him. This world, though I have been here a few times, is still very unfamiliar. I'd rather not draw any unneeded attention toward myself.

"But you and I both know that this is important. It all depends on you." He ignores my curt regard and matches my pace beside me on the illuminated sidewalks. The constant movement of people around us makes it easier to blend in. He and I appear to be ordinary men, making ordinary conversation.

"I understand that." Ebony's breathing is faint in my ear. She's very good at pretending, though, by the time I return her to her mother she will have genuinely fallen asleep.

"I'm starting to wonder if you just think you do." Xemnas retorts. "What's stopping you?" He asks questions he already knows the answers to.

"My own personal commitments." And I plan to see all of them through.

"You are not your own." It's stated blunt and emotionless.

"I make _my own_ decisions, Xemnas. You are not my keeper."

His blank expression does not change. He's silent. I know he isn't listening.

"Whether I leave now, or in the next week is my business and if another party should suffer the consequences, _so be it_. When it's time, it's time." The stream of by passers thins as I reach a narrow street end. The sun sets slowly in the east casting lazy shadows of the sides of towering skyscrapers. What few heartless litter this world now gradually crawl out of their hiding places.

"I said you would have to make a choice. I take it you are unsure of the what's best."

"I know what I want, and I know what I'll choose. I'm preparing. Mind your own business."

"You think you love her. How exactly does a Heartless profess such a thing? I find this whole situation incredibly interesting."

"_**How dare you**_," I spit "_**speak for me**_."

If it weren't for full arms.

"I don't speak for you." Xemnas narrows his eyes.

"You speak enough." I glower, releasing a clenched fist to open a dark corridor. "It's been delight."

* * *

She's startled by the sudden click of the lamp light. She turns from her wading in the mirror. The child is draped over his shoulder, fast asleep and clutching a pillow under her arm.

"I would have gotten her. You didn't have to." She resists the urge to grope at the (still burning) scar forming on the back of her neck. She took the medical tape off out of curiosity.

"…" He shakes his head, inaudible, and smirks about something. Probably only something he knows.

The vibration of his heavy sigh fills the room. There's a protest of springs on the underside of his mattress. He places his daughter, stomach down, under the cover first before crawling in after; moving her long legs where he won't roll over them in his sleep. He exhales another time in content rather than fatigue, and buries the side of his face in a pillow.

"An X?" Her voice is low.

"Yes." He mumbles

"Why an X?"

"Marks the spot." He distractedly rub's the cool tip of Ebony's nose with the pad of his index finger; knuckles gingerly graze her soft visible cheek.

"Very funny." She slips out of her clothes and braids back her hair. She glances at the mark for one last time, throws her clothes in a hamper, and makes her way toward her already occupied side of the bed.

"Something wrong?" He rolls slightly to his side.

"Are we switching? You're in my spot big boy." She pokes at his neck, turning the switch to the lamp light off. In the dark, she tips about the edge of the bed to his side. It feels odd to lie there, but she doesn't complain…out loud. To avoid pain she turns partially on her stomach, halfway on her side. Just like old times.

"I don't feel like moving. Your side was closest." There's brief humor in his tone.

"That's…very lazy of you?" She didn't think of him as a lazy man.

"Perhaps it is…"

There's an empty silence. It's not a stiff one thankfully. She takes this moment to think of the proper way to ask him something. Sometimes he's easily offended. She chews on the inside of her lip and tries her best to subtly avoid eye content.

"Is there something you want to probe at, dear?"

Ugh

"Maybe…" She watches him smooth a careful finger over Ebony's tussled hair. She's so much bigger now. Though still a child, she easily takes up a portion of space between them.

"And?" He peers through half lidded eyes. He looks so tired and worn.

"You aren't planning on doing the same thing with her, are you?" She gets the nagging itch to rub the back of her neck again.

"The last thing I would want to do is cause her pain. I have an alternative that won't require me to inflict any wounds."

She nods her head.

"Is there something else?"

"That I want to ask?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"I cannot tell." He didn't know himself. He only knew that time was extremely thin, if he even had any.

She huffs scooting in closer and bundling the comforter over her shoulders.

"Settle your worrying heart, dear."

"How can I?!" Everything hurts.

"Trust me." He breathes.

"Show me you can be trusted."

Another silence comes to pass. His eyes are fully open and gazing through the darkness. The most he can do is gather his energy, and lean over to kiss her face. "I prefer that you fear me" He presses his lips against her ear "but there's no need to be afraid."

"You've told me."


	49. My Heart (At Least for the Most Part)

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 49: My Heart (At Least for the Most Part)

He has his head in her lap, arms wrapped tightly around her thighs. Her straightened knees are felt under the harden muscle of his stomach. He can hold on for one more day, and

"One more day only..."

He inhales, chest slowly expanding, then sighs deeply through his nose. The breeze from a cracked bedroom window rolls over his shoulders, and ruffles the bed sheets; maybe a few stray strands of his un-kept hair. It's a cold drift, but neither of them mind. Winter is slowly slipping anyway.

Perhaps it isn't wise, but the day remains a lazy one. The most he can do is savor the moment. There's no more sand in the hour glass, it's all washed upon a shore. The scent of tropic air fills his nostrils; salt water on his tongue. Turning his head, he tries to focus on less urgent matters. He closes his eyes, and though it requires none of his focus, if he listens he can hear her heart beating. And the heartless that wade about in anticipation under the floors.

"…Today?" She asks. A hand that isn't trapped under his weight runs carefully, affectionately through his hair and over the exposed side of his cheek. Long nails graze his scalp raising pleasant goose bumps across the surface of his skin. Heat in his neck; he sighs again.

"Yes." He replies pressing his cheek into the soft fat of her thigh.

"When today?"

"Whenever I decide." But most certainly today. He could feel it in his weary bones.

There's a wide array of emotions Ansem doesn't quite understand, even if he grasps the concept. But if he where sensing any sentiment now –and he was— for one it would be fear. By now he knew her fear well, well enough to taste it on the back of his tongue. Salt water and citrus.

And for two: immense sadness. He'd come to feel a deep inner discomfort to the sensation of her despondency.

"I will come back for you."

"I don't doubt it." She rubs his back. "What am I supposed to do?" He isn't sure if the question is more directed toward him, or herself. He replies anyway.

"Once I leave, Maleficent will sink her teeth into this fortress. I would expect this world to completely collapse then. The Heartless have been waiting for quite some time now to take what little is left of this world."

He feels her nod her head.

"You don't owe yourself to me or her, in aspect of your debt. You may either stay with The Witch," which was something he didn't fully advise, but for once he was giving her a clear choice "Or stay with your loved ones until I return." As promised, he would save her world for last.

"I agree that I don't owe _her _anything." She tugs a bit at the ends of his hair. He knows what she means. "But I am not going to stay with her. She sticks her nose in more than one thing at one time." She remarks sourly. Ah yes, he could tell by all the little black notes and the rumors of Metropolis' crumbling towers. Unfortunate.

"That is fine." He shifts over her other side and reaches under a bundle of bed sheets. "That doesn't belong in your mouth." He plucks a worded card from little (still uncoordinated) hands. "They are meant for reading, not tasting, sweetheart." He sniggers tossing it to the side, the edge is dampened and soft with spit.

"You're so silly." She taps the child's head, frees her other arm, and collects the different word cards from their messy, scattered arrangement. "Maybe we'll continue reading later. That okay with you, jelly bean?"

"Yes!" Ebony is already up from her rolling position and crawling over her father's broad shoulders. "Papa whyeryou sleeping?" Her sentences still blend together, but at least she's speaking comprehensively.

"I'm not sleeping."

"Then what?"

"Hm?"

"Papa areyou cuddl-ing?"

"Yes," He smiles "with your mother."

* * *

The day was intended to remain lazy, but the night is filled with worried movement. This however, is more on her part. I cannot blame her, though I don't quite remember what it truly means to worry. I only know a crude feeling, of which, is also more on her part.

At this point, I can barely stand for more than a few moments. If I concentrate for too long, my head throbs, and I've learned the hard way that I shouldn't waste my time eating. "Are you done?" I lean my side on a few propped pillows. I debate on whether I should put on any of my clothes. I probably should, but; I honestly don't feel like it.

"Almost. I need to grab a few of my maternity clothes." She looks about nervously pulling at her fingers. So many things have already been cleaned out. I've been watching her take belongings back and forth, from one world to another, since the start of this evening.

"Why would you need them?" I stand to my feet, and start by pulling on my boots. I slowly tuck the cuffs of my pants legs inside the leather.

"You never know." She narrows her eyes at me.

"I don't always forget to."

"Yes, you do." She changes back the subject, rolling her eyes. "I also…" She pauses probably readying herself to listen for my reaction. "…saved some other things."

"If you're going to horde that information, and I couldn't imagine why, keep it hidden." I make no other comment.

"Maybe I'm interested in being 'informed'."

"That has always been your interest, dear."

She shrugs her shoulders, and ruffles her bangs out of her eyes. "Don't jump on the bed, Ebony."

I turn around. Ebony is not jumping on the bed, but she's poised to. I sit down and snag her by the waist, toting her under my arm, and pressing her flush against my side. She giggles and twists haphazardly onto her stomach.

"I have something for you." I whisper to her, plopping her in my lap.

"A present! Forme?!"

"Yes, just for you." I smooth her tousled hair from her cheeks. She's quiet in general, but such a messy child, and _nosy_. Just like her mother.

"What isit?" She asks looking around for what I might have to give her.

I lean over to a bed side table and pull a black silver bracelet out of an open drawer. I hold it out for her to see. "Pretty? Yes?"

"Yes!" She hisses, grabbing at it with excitement.

"Ah-ah-ah." I take it out of reach and waggle my finger. "If you want to keep it, you'll have to make a promise first. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." She frowns, but is undaunted.

"Never-ever take it off once I put it on." I break eye contact from her to glance at her mother, who has paused her own scurrying to listen to our exchange.

"Never ever?" She looks as if she's actually thinking about it, and she probably is.

"Never ever."

"Okay!" She flings out her wrist. I slip it on, and tighten it accordingly. She exams it, leisurely kicking her feet. She appears satisfied with her bargain.

Now that that business is done, I set her to the side of me, and stand again to my feet. For a while, I do a bit of searching in my cabinets for articles of clothing. "Phoebe, where did I put my undercoat?" Or any of my belts, or my gloves. I seem to have become horribly disorganized in the past week.

"I set everything aside in the wardrobe." She's gone back to what she was doing before; being a busybody.

Figures. I tell her thank you even though she didn't need to.

"Try not to miss me too much." I take her by the elbow and pull her in to wrap my arms around her waist. She tilts her neck to the side so that I can kiss it. I try to make light of the prospect of future deeds. She understands what I'm setting of to do, and my absence will be the least of what will plague her, but I can't tend to emotions, or familial ties. Cold hearted, but I do not care. This is just business and ambition.

"I'll try." When I raise my head from her neck, she kisses the edge of my lips.

"ew." Ebony comments from the darkness of her bed sheet burrow. I chuckle. She can't tell us to 'get a room'.

I lean down again to whisper in Phoebe's ear. "If you have anything to tell me, you had best do it now."

She nods her head. "When Ebony is asleep. Will I have time then?"

"I think so." I rub her arms. "I have a few things I need to tell you." I should sit down. My head has started hurting again.

* * *

I should stop being so nervous around him, but I've held it off for far too long and he knows it. I've never really told him all of my dirty little secrets. I lay my forearms over my bent knees and sulk. His eyes are closed. I wonder if it's uncomfortable lying down in all those garments. Maybe that's why he doesn't wear much when at leisure.

"I'm waiting." He interrupts my train of thought.

"Before I dealt business with Maleficent, I knew a man by the name of Cornelius Quatüre. He was my-"

"Boyfriend."

"Y-yes. Kind of…" Lucky guess. I've had many 'boyfriends' before, but he was my favorite because he had lots of munny. I find power attractive in a man.

Anywho, "He's a big king on the chess board," And I knew that well at the time. "He and his boys deal illegal merchandise. Smokes, liquor, weapons, you name it. He liked me, and as long as I could use his munny, I liked him." I've been staring at my arms the entire time.

"_What?_" I look up. Ansem's eyes are open and he is giving me this sharp, toothy grin.

"Oh, nothing." He's got _'I knew it'_ written all over his pretty face.

I narrow my eyes and continue. "The Metropolis government is meant to run everything, but in my opinion, they don't control anything at all, Qat does, or did. Essentially, Maleficent used me to get to him. Not in a completely threatening way. She didn't wager me, I was just a tool to get friendly with him."

"He has a nickname?"

Ansem stop. "Yes." And his grunts are alley qats. So punny it's _stupid_.

_Anywho, _"She wanted a piece of what he had, and she got it. Got to have her cake and eat it, and it was all my fault. Not that he was all that good." In this kind of situation you side with the lesser evil. Or, whichever is more beneficial. Whatever.

"She likes shiny things." He muses. His expression hasn't changed.

"Yeah yeah." I shrug my shoulders ending my tale.

"That's not all."

I sigh. "What else do you want to know?"

"What about the doctor?" He turns his head and takes my hand. He rubs his gloved fingers on the insides of my knuckles.

"Toby?" Oh…right.

"Yes."

"He was one of my childhood friends." Eventually ex-boyfriend. This is so _weird_ to talk about with Ansem of all people. "I don't think he ever really let me go. He was a nice boy, but he was too good for me." Because I'm addicted to bad people.

"I think he assumed I was a felon." He kneads the joint of my index finger.

"If I didn't know who you were, I would assume that, too. You know my mother is a tad afraid of you?"

"I know that. You should have seen her face when I was at the door instead of you." He cackles deep in the back of his throat.

"What was it you had to tell me?" I un-bend my legs and let myself fall on my side. He's still fiddling with my fingers.

"That when you see me again, I may not appear the same." Whatever that means. He releases my hand and sluggishly sits up.

"Anything else?" I sit up immediately after he does. My heart becomes caught in my throat, beating where it is.

"Make sure she knows that I adore her. You both." He stands. "I must go."

* * *

I can hardly follow him out of the room. I feel _sick _to my stomach, and for once I don't feel like I'm going to cry. Even if I really _really_ want to.

One

Two

Three steps

And like a ghost

_He's gone_.

* * *

Fading was something Ansem had experienced before, in the last minutes of a previous life. It was a vague sensation, and all at once very vast like the essence and intricacies of time itself. It was like following on the gusting, cold wind of events. It blurred in thin chalk lines, and stung like boiling hot sand slipping through his fingers, though; at this point he had none. Everything is black, and then blue, and then orange, and then a brilliant white; the sun and rush of large bodies of water. There's crystal on their surfaces. The scent of tropics fills a humid breeze, of course if he had a nose, and the taste of salt water savory on his lack of tongue. He has much more work to do.

"Xehanort."

"Yes?"

"I have much to tell you."

* * *

**END OF PART I**


	50. EPILOGUE

A Little Piece of Heaven

Chapter 50:

_**EPILOGUE**_

* * *

To do what must be done he would never show any form of compassion. No one would know him of anything other than a source of supreme brutality.

Before any new deed or continuous endeavor was done, he pushed all remorseful thought, all sentiment, and every memory of ever being cherished, in the very very back of his mind.

* * *

Talking to himself was a sharp, day-to-day, agonizing oddity. It was something Riku thought he should have been used to by now, but to tell the truth he wasn't. He knew he wasn't crazy, but at times it felt like he was moving in that direction. He wasn't talking, sometimes arguing, with just himself; he had an inner presence, a horrible guest really, that invaded more than just his tainted heart. It was pure torture.

Sometimes Ansem…Xehanort's Heartless, said nothing at all for several days, and it paranoid him into restlessness. On other days it was a constant struggle to keep his train of thought between snarls and growls that were loud, and painful enough to give him migraines. On those days, even pulling the black veil over his eyes wouldn't help ease his troubles.

But, there were other occurrences that were very _strange_. Sometimes they happened during the day, and Namine would give him curious looks upon his space-outs. He heard sounds, very faint echoes; maybe the cheerful high-pitched laughter of a child, the warm rasp of a woman's voice, thuds of rushing water, murmurs of intimate conversations. At first, he assumed that they originated from the recesses of his own memories, but his dreams told him otherwise.

Some of Riku's dreams were even stranger. He viewed moments, places in time he knew he hadn't before and they made him tremendously uncomfortable. They never made complete sense to him; the visions were vague and progressed like the rush of a blurred camera. It only took him a dream or two to realize who he was in the point of view, though, Riku never said and tried not to think a word about it. It was….well, awkward, and it made him feel that way because of the tenderness of what he experienced when he slept at night. This wasn't something he was supposed to see, or feel, or touch. This was obviously meant to be private. But to his embarrassment, every so often, it was flustering.

When one of these leaked visions was enough to fluster Riku when he woke in the morning, none of Ansem's burning irritation was said in word. He could simply _feel_ it. The agitation was heavy set and made his entire following day a queer one. Whenever Riku dared to ask what some of these dreams meant, to his initial surprise, he received no reply what-so-ever. Typically, **He** wasn't against demeaning conversation or spiteful banter. Whatever it was, Ansem refused to say a word about it causing an empty void in Riku's mind for days. Riku tried not to dwell on it, but it wasn't something he couldn't possibly control.

"What are you putting in my head? What is all of this supposed to be?"

"…"

"Answer me? Why do I keep seeing things?"

"…"

"I don't like this anymore than you do."

"…"

"Say something?!"

"**Stop your meddling, boy."**

Riku hated having to talk to himself.


	51. BONUS: I've Missed You

**I felt it appropriate to post this at the tail end of this series rather than having it posted alone. It's something I've written recently, that fits somewhere between the break in their relationship, toward their reunion after a few months apart. Not quite senseless smut. Actually, there's a lot of sense to it. **

**Enjoy**

* * *

The assortment of metal that studded Ansem's coat clicked over the edge of a wooden room chair. He wordlessly removed the belts that held his under jacket in place, and laid it on the other side. His gloves, which he'd taken off prior to the over coat, followed over the back of the chair soon after. "What is it?" Ansem finally spoke after bending down to draw open the zippers of his leather boots. His low voice filled the room before it drowned to soft silence again. By routine, he checked his boots for scuffs, and then pushed them partially under the foot of the box spring.

"I haven't said anything." Phoebe mumbled. In Ansem's normal spot on her side; she had lain off to the left portion of the bed. She pulled a pillow beneath her head when he addressed her. To be honest, his sudden question disturbed her from her absent minded staring. She hadn't been able to lie in his bed and gaze for nearly three months. It was somewhat refreshing to be able to again. Phoebe had never said it aloud, but Ansem was nice to observe. She had been gazing at his back while it was exposed, and now that he had faced her, she could allow her eyes to casually observe his front.

"You were staring." Ansem tugged the strap of his last belt from around his waist, and dragged it from the loops of his slacks. Once his slacks were removed and neatly folded back into one of his personal drawers, Ansem reached with a steady hand to turn down the brightness of a bedside lamp. The brighter light from before made it harder for him to make out her face in the dimmed room.

"You still are." He pulled the band of his underwear higher on his waist and prowled over the edge of the bed to hover above Phoebe's face. "You're also lying in my spot." His hair trickled down from his muscular shoulders and ghosted her neck and chest.

Phoebe brushed stray strands of Ansem's gray hair out of the way and prepared to sit up. "I have eyes don't I?" She could say that she was sorry, but that would be a lie. "Besides, I was thinking." Initiating her move with a soft grunt, Phoebe pushed herself up onto her knees and became eye level with him while he was stabled on his hands. She didn't flinch when his hard, orange eyes met hers. Phoebe had come to find a long time ago that they always appeared (even in a good mood) that way. She didn't mind. They were nice to look at, too. They crackled like fire in the tight rings around his irises and faded to a soft burn toward the black holes of his pupils. Sometimes if she looked long enough in the light they-

"Phoebe."

"Yes?" She finally noticed his expression had changed. He seemed irritated, but that was nothing new.

"Were you even listening?" Ansem snatched the bridge of her nose between his knuckles and pinched. He hadn't taken a hold of her nose in a long time.

"Ow! Y-maybe…" Phoebe took ahold of his wrist with both of her much smaller hands and pulled herself from the clamp of his fingers. She grumbled and rubbed the redness he left behind. "What were you saying?"

"I said _move_." He repeated. "You're in my spot."

"I did move?" She straightened her back and sat down on her round bottom when Ansem stood at his height on his knees.

"Not enough, silly woman. You're still in my place." Ansem threatened to move her himself. He hooked his fingers in the crease of her knee, and dragged her leg from under her. Using the same joint, he yanked her from one portion of his bed to the other.

"Hey! Geeze, are you happy now?" Phoebe inwardly pouted. She had already spent her precious time warming the area of bed sheets she had previously been lying on. "You don't even take up one half. You take up three fourths." She argued. When Ansem settled on his back, Phoebe swung her leg over his waist and sat herself there above the juncture of his thighs instead. "That side of the bed is cold."

Ansem didn't respond immediately. "And?" He didn't see how this was supposed to persuade him. "It won't be cold if you lay there."

"It's just a bed. You don't have to be so territorial. Are you afraid of switching things up every now and again?" Phoebe placed her hands on his lower stomach when Ansem shifted under her. They went through their normal evening talk, which was most often arguing, until he ended the 'conversation' by rudely turning off the light. "Well excuse me." She pressed her full lips into a line. Phoebe considered rolling from atop his waist after being shut out, but thought better of it and remained where she was.

Her eyes drifted down to his waist after adjusting to the dark. Without light, she could still see the outline of muscle beneath the dark tone of his skin. Slowly pursing her lips in deep thought, she rubbed the bottom of her wrists. The trail of curly grey hair that led down from Ansem's faux navel tickled the base of her palms. Phoebe took her index finger and gingerly traced the faint line. Up and down; once, then twice. Her attention swayed from the band of his underwear when she reached the bottom again. Phoebe suppressed her jolt when she looked upward and met his eyes (which were supposed to be closed).

"Did you forget I was here?" Ansem had been watching her and only chose now to say something. On occasion he found Phoebe absent minded, but this was odd, even for her.

"No." Yes. "Is there something wrong?" She went on as if she were doing nothing out of the ordinary. Pressing the pads of her fingers into his mid-section, Phoebe reminded herself of the texture of his stomach. The muscles there were hard and stiff, and in every other press; they twitched with the rhythmic rise and fall of his inaudible breathing. She pushed her whole hand in a soft rub when her curiosity made its way higher to the bit of space beneath his broad chest. Phoebe pulled the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth. The surface of his skin felt warm, and when she paused, she could feel his physical heart beat; low and steady.

"Apparently not." Ansem knowingly cocked his head to the side. He placed his larger hand over hers. He wasn't complaining at the spontaneous attention he was receiving, but there was something he wanted to point out. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Hm?" Phoebe was still.

"Since we've lain down together." He continued. Ansem moved his hand a moment later and laid it on a pillow above his head.

"Three months. Yeah." She understood what he meant. They'd been sleeping in the same bed again for a week or so now, but it hadn't crossed her mind until now of how long it had been since they'd touched. It made her feel nervous, and feeling nervous made her feel odd. It was just Ansem. Right? Other than sorting out their 'relationship', not much had changed between them.

"I kinda missed you." Phoebe admitted. Scooting forward on Ansem's lap, she crossed her arms and leaned heavily over his chest. She could feel his stomach sink when her own pressed out. Phoebe stuck her chin out where he could easily reach her, and then inched their faces closer together.

"Is that so?" Ansem murmured. He responded how she hoped he would and pressed the smooth bow of his soft lips against hers in a kiss. He held himself there for a moment. The vibration of his words tickled. Curiously, he found himself following her lead. It was rare, but for now, he wasn't opposed. When Phoebe tilted her head to the side, he replied by edging her lips slightly apart with his tongue. If Ansem didn't have self-control, he would have groaned. The kiss they shared was warm and wet and sweet. A sense of faint nostalgia washed over him, and the sounds of how close they were distantly filled the room. Maybe he missed this, too.

Phoebe expelled a few consecutive sighs and sucked Ansem's tongue into her mouth. She took her time becoming refamiliar with the way he smelled and felt and tasted. Her fingers involuntarily stroked his sturdy neck and her wide hips fidgeted over his. Their decadent, open mouth tongue kisses left them both a little breathless and eager. They continued on, escalating into hungry necking until Phoebe felt the telltale signs that maybe Ansem wanted to do a little more.

"Ansem." Phoebe broke their kissing to draw in a full breath.

"What is it?" He licked his lips. Ansem was still heavily leaned in to reach her face.

"You're poking me, big guy." Phoebe licked her own flushed lips and rubbed the heat the rose in her neck. It had grown warm between her legs, and every time the subtle stiffness at Ansem's groin brushed her there, she ached. A certain sting settled over her body, and the viciously starved way he gazed at her wasn't helping.

"Then maybe we should do something about it." Ansem suggested. A low rumbling began in his chest, and it heaved with his breathing when Phoebe raised her legs and began to rub him through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

"Something like this?" Phoebe tossed her long, purple hair to her other shoulder. She watched him tilt his head backward over the comfort of a pillow and groan. She took his response as a yes. Feeling experimental, Phoebe grabbed his covered, half hard member between the side of her bent index finger and thumb, and slowly stoked him up and down. There was a pause to consider removing his bottoms and getting on with what they both wanted, but Phoebe considered that tonight was probably a good night to take things slow. It had been a while. Might as well savor it.

Ansem partially sat up the moment Phoebe stopped rubbing. He guided her thighs back over his lap and pushed his hands beneath the cover of the shirt she was wearing. He smoothed and caressed the soft fat on her stomach and waist before snaking behind her to take handfuls of her thick bottom. Ansem squeezed and kneaded; feeling her high pitched sigh in his mouth when he claimed her lips and tongue again. The warmth between Phoebe's voluptuous thighs grinded over the ache of his hardening member and he parted his legs to feel more of the friction.

"Lift your arms." He commanded. Phoebe immediately complied, closed her eyes, and tucked in her head as Ansem tugged off her shirt and tossed it aside in the room. Still dry grinding over his lap, she kept her arms up when his fingers traced around the line of her brassiere to the clasp. He latched his mouth to the gully of her chest the moment he tore off the lacy black fabric. Ansem peppered balmy kisses from the soft patch of skin beneath her ears, down to the base of her neck. She shivered in his arms and craned her head to the side to give him more room to offer attention.

Back arched forward, Phoebe allowed him to cup her breasts. Her fingers dug into his forearms and she moaned louder than she intended to. Mouth open and fully hardened under her, Ansem took one of her soft, brown nipples in his mouth and massaged it with the tip of his tongue. He gave the other side attention by swiping the stiffening nub with the pad of his thumb. She involuntarily whined. The ache between Phoebe's legs had turned into a throb that visibly dampened the fabric of her panties.

"Top or bottom?"

"Come again?" Ansem distractedly pressed her breasts together and kissed the soft crease it created.

"Top or bottom?" She mouthed. "I know you're picky."

"You're already up on the saddle. I'm fine where I am." He tilted his head up from her chest to affectionately nip and nibble her stippled cheeks.

"Then I guess I'll remain seated." Phoebe nudged Ansem back by his shoulders. His hands had left her chest in an attempt to forcibly remove her underwear.

"AH-AH!" Her voice grained like a scolding buzzer and she pried his fingers from the edges of what clothes she had left. "_Don't you __**dare**__ rip my favorite pair of panties._" Phoebe heard Ansem sigh in impatience. "Here, I'll take them off myself." She stood up on her feet atop the bed and pulled the lace down her legs. Phoebe tossed them to the floor a brief moment later. Completely naked, she folded her arms above her head, and swung the smooth control of her hips in a bit of an erotic dance while lowering herself to his lap again. "See, waiting isn't that bad."

"I could have bought you a new pair." Ansem raised his hips an inch or so above the mattress to allow her to remove his underwear as well. Phoebe rubbed, parted, and aligned her soft lips with the flushed tip of his girth. She soundlessly sucked in a breath and gradually took it in. She hadn't been with Ansem in a while and suspected she might be a little sensitive. Her partner was a big boy and all of his parts just so happened to match. Ansem was a tight fit; moderately hung, but _thick_. She remembered that much. Phoebe exhaled when a comfortable portion of his man hood disappeared. It was hot, and it made her feel a little peculiar to know she could feel his pulse there. Phoebe shifted her knees into a more relaxed stance, and rested for a minute to allow herself time to adjust to being stretched again.

"You're so impatient." She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and tried to keep herself from fidgeting. Every now and again she felt the muscles in his legs twitch. Phoebe could tell he wanted her to start moving, but Ansem knew better to initiate anything until she was ready.

"I'll buck you off." He was relaxed at an angle on his back; with the palms of his curled hands facing upward. The outline of Ansem's canines came into view in the dark. His lips had drawn back into a subtle smile. He chuckled; quite amused by his own joke. "I'm not impatient. You just tend to make me that way."

"I don't make you anything." Phoebe pushed herself upward and plopped down again. The movement tightly slid up, and then down his erection. She sighed and repeated the soft bounce from before until she worked herself into a steady tempo. Aside from the sound of their thighs meeting, the low hum of Ansem's approval filled the pockets of silence that remained in the bedroom. "I made you do that though." Her breath hitched and she held her breasts in place when Ansem placed more force in the rhythm of her ride. With the accompaniment of his own eager push, he jerked himself upward to meet her when she sank down.

Phoebe closed her eyes; mouth parted, and slightly panting. The sting of pleasure that had started from the friction inside of her spread to the pit of her belly and stiffened her nipples. She tilted her head back to swing her hair from the moisture that collected on her neck. A high pitched whimper came from the back of her throat, followed by a whine, and several other noises that hardly resembled his name.

Ansem watched with tamed, half-lidded eyes below her. "You've never been this vocal before." His breathing between words was rushed. The muscles of his lower stomach dipped and tensed to the varying intensity of the pleasure he received. As a bed partner, Phoebe was relatively quiet and communicated how she was feeling through her body language and typically vivid facial expressions. Either it really had been too long, or this position gave her more room to make all the noise she wanted. Ansem wasn't complaining. The way she sang while she rode was rather pleasing.

One of the hands above his head (that where now gripping the head board), snaked down to where they were connected. Ansem gingerly caught Phoebe when her bounces became shorter in height, and rubbed the slicked, sensitive nub between her occupied lips with the flat of his thumb. He massaged her rosy pearl in slow, swift circles, and gauged her like or dislike based on the face she made in response. "Do you like that?" Ansem moaned. A light sheen of sweat had started to form over his forehead and in the bent creases of his limbs. He licked his lips as if he were thirsty. "Oo," She sucked in another sharp breath. "Yes, please." Phoebe tightened. She felt her pleasure creep upward and wasn't sure how much more she could take.

Ansem, who found himself in the same predicament (more or less), growled. He unclamped his free hand from the dents he made in the headboard, and sat up. Without much of a warning, he paused Phoebe to switch their positions. "Didn't think I'd throw you off, did you?" He pulled out for a moment and was pushing his throbbing girth in again the second he had flipped, and pinned her on the bottom at the opposite end of the bed. His muscular arms held her under her back, while her hands hooked under the insides to grip his shoulder blades. Ansem opened his mouth, bowed his back, and panted low off to the side of her head. The words he whispered near her ear were dirty and relatively meaningless, but the texture of his voice while he spewed nonsense made her shiver. He worked his hips against the cushion on the insides of her thighs and found the pace they had been in before. He felt in how tight she'd gotten that Phoebe was probably close to her finish.

"Please please please please…" The rasp of Phoebe's voice was muffled in Ansem's shoulder. She tucked her head under his chin. Her legs that had been sprawled out to the side of his waist clamped around his lower back. A pleasured hiss passed through her clenched teeth when he happened to thrust at just the right angle. Alerted by her slight change in behavior, he tried his best to keep himself there. The lax vibration of her breathing turned ragged and heavy. "Ah!" Soft at first. "AH!" Louder. Maybe at one point it was supposed to be the beginnings of his name. Phoebe's polish toes and fingers curled and finally found herself in her climax. She held on to Ansem's neck through the rush that muffled her senses and allowed him to ride out the_ tight_ clamp and soft gush (she was full of all kinds of neat surprises tonight) of her orgasm to reach his own. Not quite as loud as loud as her, a low grunt rose from the very back of his chest and he slowed the buck of his hips to a stop.

"That was new." He heavily rested his weight above hers. Ansem dipped his head downward to her face and placed an affectionate kiss or two on her cheek before pulling out. Phoebe's eyes were closed, so he wasn't sure if she was embarrassed or not. He knew he was probably going to laugh about all of this later.

"I know what I've done. You'd better not bring that up." Without opening her eyes, she draped her arm around his neck and scratched the nape with her fingers. What she often mistook for purring was a noise of content in reply. The break of sound that passed from his throat, to Ansem's mouth made her neck tickle when he moved his lips there. Phoebe cracked open one of her eyes to find that his were, of course, still open.

"What is it?" She mumbled. Abrupt sleepiness filled her voice. In the back of her mind, she knew she'd have to get up before officially sleeping to make sure they didn't horribly soil anything.

"I haven't said anything." He murmured back. "Oh," Ansem face slackened. " Was I staring?"

* * *

**Thanks for reading. The prospect of a part two to the series as a whole is still under construction.**


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